


A Familiar Heart

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment Issues, BDSM, Bondage, Canadian Fic, Covert Kink, Dom/sub Play, Edging, Gentle Dom, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Marking, Orgasm Control, Original Fiction, Past Relationship(s), Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sex Toys, Trust Issues, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 86,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: On a cold winter night, Paul comes face to face with his former dom, Sam, who had broken up with him and left him with a broken heart 20 years ago. Neither of them had ever moved past what they’d lost and following their coincidental meeting, both of them are desperate to pick up the pieces and re-build the lives they’d left behind.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 259
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Copyright © 2019 by Diamond_Raven. All rights reserved. This story is free of charge and is not available on any other platforms.
> 
> 2\. The watersports element will only show up in Chapters 16-18. Ch 16-17 involve discussions about it but the act is only graphically shown in Ch 18. There’s no consumption, only physical contact (done for marking purposes). If you prefer, you can skip Ch 18 entirely.
> 
> 3\. I’ve tagged all the major themes but I don’t provide trigger warnings for minor events. Feel free to email me if you’d like to ask whether specific things take place in this story.

The ringing of the phone pulls him from sleep. Groaning, Paul opens his eyes and gropes on his bedside table for his on flip phone. Staring blearily at the ID on the phone, he sighs when he doesn’t recognize the number. It’s just past midnight, which means it’s either some dumbass coming back from the bush who didn’t bring enough fuel to make it back to Gibson and needs to fill up, or it’s tourists who always manage to get lost despite there only being one highway in the area.

Flipping the phone open, he clears his throat and tries to put on his customer service voice. “Becker’s Gas and Auto Shop. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hey there. Sorry about this, but I ran outta fuel on my way back to Gibson and I won’t make it on the fumes I’ve got left.”

Unfortunately, these late night calls are common, but the alternative is leaving the gas pumps unlocked and having people help themselves. Relying on the honour system isn’t something Paul wants to play with when it comes to his income. Resisting the urge to sigh, he rolls out of bed. “I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up the phone, he grabs his insulated work pants and pulls them on, along with a thick sweater. It was 30 below when he’d gone to bed, so it’s probably close to 35 by now.

Heading out into the front hall, he pulls on his thick winter jacket, steps into his work boots, pulls on a toque, grabs his work gloves and the keys hanging by the door and heads out into the dark. The cold air stings his skin the moment he leaves the warmth of the house and his breath mists up the air as he locks the door and thuds down the rickety old stairs. It definitely feels like it’s 35.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he buries his chin into the collar of his jacket to shield his poor, sleepy chin from the cold. He crunches over the frozen snow and walks past the auto shop and the store, the string of Christmas lights he keeps strung on them year round the only light in the darkness. One of these days, his petitions to the government to install a street lamp in his little corner of Wiley will be successful. Until then, Christmas lights are the cheapest solution.

The dark highway stretches along beside him, as cold and still as the rest of Wiley. There’s a truck parked by the two gas pumps and a man is standing with his back to Paul, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets to ward off the bone-chilling cold. If there’s any doubt that this is a dumbass oil patch worker, those fade when Paul sees his blue insulated jacket with the yellow high visibility stripes crossing the back of the jacket.

The man must have heard Paul’s approaching footsteps on the snow because he turns around, a toque pulled low over his head. The toque has the name of one of the large oil and gas drilling companies stitched across the front, which confirms Paul’s suspicions. His first thought when the man turns around is that the dumbass is too old to be making rookie mistakes like heading out hundreds of kilometres into the Canadian wilderness without bringing jerry cans filled with gas…

…but then he recognizes the man’s piercing blue eyes and his breath catches as his feet stutter to a stop and his body seizes up with shock.

For a second, he thinks he’s dreaming. But he dismisses the thought seconds later because the dreams that normally feature this ghost with the crystal clear blue eyes never take place outside in the dead of winter. Sometimes the dreams take place outside, but it’s always summer in those dreams. But mostly the dreams take place indoors. In a warm bed.

Staring at Sam’s blue eyes makes those dreams and memories come flooding back and Paul blinks hard to push them away. He can’t believe this is happening.

It’s been twenty years since he’d last seen him. Twenty fucking years since Sam Deacon had walked out on him. And not a single day has gone by when Paul hasn’t thought about him and his heart hasn’t ached with pain at what he’d lost.

Sam’s eyes widen. “Paul?! Oh, my God! Crick?!”

They stare at each other, both in shock.

Sam recovers first, stepping towards him with a smile and holding out his hand, as if he wants to shake Paul’s hand.

That’s when Paul’s shock wears off, leaving behind the usual complicated swirl of emotions he always feels whenever he thinks about Sam and their past: grief, shame and arousal. As usual, that’s followed by getting upset with himself. After what Sam had done to him—to their relationship, to their friendship, to their entire lives—and after twenty years of distance, how the _hell_ is he still attracted to this asshole?! Here he is—it’s the middle of the night, it’s 35 below zero, he’s exhausted, Sam’s bundled up like a snowman—and Paul’s blood is simmering and his cock is stirring.

Taking a deep breath of icy cold air, Paul swallows hard and pushes his arousal aside. He might be a pathetic dumbass who’s still madly in love with somebody who dumped him twenty years ago, but there’s no way he’ll ever let Sam know that. It’s bad enough that Sam had crushed his heart when he’d left him, but to add insult to injury the guy wants to _shake his fucking hand?!_

Paul clenches his jaw and ignores Sam’s hand as he digs his key out of his pocket. “Need a fill up?”

Sam’s smile wavers and he frowns. “Crick? Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. I’m Sam Deacon. We went to—”

“I know who you are, but seeing how it’s past midnight, I’d really like to hurry this up and get back to bed.” Sticking his key into the pump security lock, Paul unlocks it, flips on the pump and yanks the gas nozzle out of its holder, holding it out towards Sam. “Are you gonna be paying with cash or credit card? Credit’s fine but I gotta go inside and boot up the machine. That’ll take about five minutes.”

Sam stares at him. “You—what’s wrong? Why aren’t you—I mean, this is amazing! We haven’t seen in each other in…God…twenty years? And we meet up in God damn Wiley of all places, in the middle of the night and…this is awesome!”

Paul’s jaw is clenched so tight that he might break a tooth. “No, this isn’t _awesome_. It’s been great not having you around for the last twenty years and after you’re done here, I’m gonna pretend this never happened.” Shoving the nozzle into Sam’s chest harder than necessary, Paul steps away from him, leaving Sam to fumble at the hose before it drops. “So fill up your truck and get back to Gibson or wherever the hell you live.”

“I…Crick…”

The sound of the nickname is making Paul’s heart ache. Very few people still call him ‘Cricket’ these days. Like most childhood nicknames, they wear out once people get past a certain age. But nobody had ever called him Crick. Not because they hadn’t wanted to, but that had been Sam’s special nickname for him and Paul hadn’t allowed anybody else to use it. Hearing it now is pouring salt in the wound that has never healed and probably never will.

“Crick, please. You have no idea how—”

Paul struggles to keep hold of his temper. “Stop calling me that!”

Sam frowns, clutching the nozzle to his chest. “I’m sorry, I just wanna talk. I’ve been waiting—”

“I don’t have anything to say to you!”

“I—”

“Shut the hell up! You _just wanna talk?!_ You sure didn’t wanna talk the last time I wanted to talk. Or maybe that _was_ your version of talking? Calling me a disgusting freak and telling me you didn’t wanna be in my life anymore?”

Sam stares at him, his eyes pleading. “I’m sorry for saying those things. That was the biggest—”

Paul lets out an ugly laugh that mists up the cold darkness around them. “You don’t get it. I don’t give a damn what you have to say. I don’t care if you’re sorry. I stopped caring about what you think, what you want or what you feel when you decided you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. If you suddenly changed your mind, tough shit.”

“I know I hurt you, Crick. I just wanna—”

His temper boils over and Paul gives Sam a hard shove in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps as the heavy nozzle drops into the packed snow at their feet. “I told you not to call me that! I don’t care what you just wanna. You have no idea what I went through after you left. You were…you were everything to me, Sam! _Everything!_ ”

Sam looks devastated. “I know and I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Paul’s suddenly exhausted. Maybe it’s his age. Having heated arguments in freezing cold weather in the middle of the night is something for twenty-something year olds, not him.

“You broke my heart,” he whispers, his heart aching with pain and lump growing in his throat. “I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to put my life back together and I’m not gonna let you come along and wreck everything again. You’re not just some random person from high school. I can’t sit at the diner in Gibson with you and have Doris serve us half a dozen cups of coffee while we chuckle about old times before we part ways and go on with our lives. I can’t shake your hand like you’re just an old classmate I played hockey with. You were so much than that and you know it. I don’t care if you’ve put it all behind you, but I haven’t and I can’t do it.”

Sam exhales a shaky breath, his breath billowing like a cloud around them in the frosty air. “I get it, I really do. I…” Sam’s voice drifts off as if he was about to say something but changed his mind. After staring at the ground for a long moment, Sam slowly bends over and picks up the gas hose. “I’ll fuel up my truck and let you get back to bed.”

Relief floods him as Paul realizes that he only has to put up with Sam for a few more minutes. “You want cash or credit?”

Sam flips open the gas lid on his truck and unscrews the gas cap. “Credit, please.”

Paul heads towards the store. “I’ll go start the machine. Come inside when you’re ready to pay.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Not looking behind him, Paul shuffles across the frozen ground and unlocks the dark store. Flipping on the light, he steps behind the cash register and turns on the old machine, waiting for it to boot up. As he waits, he slumps against the counter, that familiar aching sadness in his gut. No matter how angry he still is, the grief over losing Sam will always be stronger. Time certainly doesn’t heal all wounds.

Maybe the whole thing wouldn’t have been so bad if Sam hadn’t been his best friend first; if Sam had been some random guy he’d started fooling around with. There’s no doubt Paul wouldn’t have fallen so hard for him if he hadn’t cared about Sam before their relationship had turned romantic. That shared history meant Paul had already trusted and loved Sam in a hundred different ways before they’d started sleeping together.

He remembers how terrified he’d been when Sam had caught him staring at him the way a guy wasn’t supposed to stare at his best friend. While they’d been in high school, fear of what his classmates would do if they suspected he was gay had kept Paul from ogling Sam like he’d always wanted to.

He’d spent years working hard to avoid giving anybody any reason to suspect he had feelings for guys, despite how much he’d hated it. Like their other hockey buddies, Paul got himself dates to take to school dances and he’d always tried to be decent to the girls, but he couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for being with them. Not only hadn’t he been attracted to them, but he’d always be thinking about wanting to spend time with Sam instead and talking about Sam incessantly. He’d get the biggest smiles of the evening out of his dates when it was time to go home. No doubt, they’d been as happy to get rid of him as he’d been.

He’d never been under the illusion that he’s one of the most attractive guys around. He and Sam had always been on the heavy side and since elementary school, they’d always been two quiet shadows, floating along with the popular kids purely based on their physical strength and their hockey skills. He’d never felt guilty asking those girls on dates, despite knowing that it would only be a one-time thing. Most of them didn’t make it a secret that they weren’t attracted to him either and were only agreeing because they liked the opportunity to mingle with the popular crowd.

But once they’d graduated, most people left Gibson and the ones who stayed had their adult lives to worry about and spent less time worrying over who Paul was or wasn’t dating and who he was checking out. That freedom had finally led to Sam catching him, but that had turned into one of the luckiest accidents of his life.

When Sam had confronted him, Paul had reacted defensively, insisting he wasn’t gay and Sam was making shit up. But all of Paul’s denials had come to a screeching halt when Sam had admitted that he’d been hiding his feelings for Paul for years.

“I’ve always known I was gay. But I never thought you were and I didn’t wanna make things awkward between us. You’re my best friend. I kinda hoped…well, you never seemed enthusiastic about the girls you went out with so I thought maybe…but I didn’t wanna risk ruining things between us.”

The irony of those words have haunted Paul for decades because Sam _did_ end up ruining things between them, but that came years later.

Sam had been so enthusiastic about taking their relationship to the next level. They’d already been living together at the time and like most newly graduated nineteen year olds in their neck of the woods, they went to work in the oil patch together. Sometimes they were lucky enough to get on the same drill crew, other times not. But by making up bullshit excuses about important appointments that they had to keep in town, they mostly ended up on the same rotation: two weeks living on the drill rig and drilling new wells, followed by one week at home. The off-season had been even better because like most young guys who worked in the oil patch in their early twenties, they had very few financial responsibilities and April through September was their time to play, relax and spend the outrageous amounts of money they’d earned over the hard winter.

Those had been the happiest times of Paul’s life. Getting to spend every day with Sam without the pressures of high school or having to hide his attraction to Sam had been a dream come true. They spent all day hanging out, playing video games, riding their dirt bikes, going camping or hunting and having lots and lots of sex.

Looking back, Paul’s always surprised that the development of their sexual relationship hadn’t been as nerve-wracking to him as the start to their relationship had been. Neither of them had ever fooled around with guys before, but they’d taken things slowly and had way too much fun learning about each other and themselves.

Paul remembers the day they’d been fooling around and he’d been lying underneath Sam on the bed in Paul’s room as they’d been making out. The phone had started to ring and knowing it was his mom calling, Paul had tried reaching over to grab the phone off the cradle, but Sam had grabbed both his hands and held them above his head, pinning him down to keep him where he was. The intense arousal that had shot through Paul at being held down like that had made him come right then and there. He hadn’t even registered when the phone had stopped ringing.

Just thinking about that moment makes Paul shiver and his hand clutches the edge of the wooden counter, arousal tingling through him. Sam had noticed his reaction to having his hands held down, but before Paul could get ashamed or make up excuses, Sam had grinned down at him. “Oh, that’s cool! I wanna do that again.”

They’d never discussed those things in detail. Sam would suggest things—like tying up Paul’s hands with the towing straps from his truck or ordering Paul not to get off while he was in the bush for two weeks and only letting him come once he was home—and Paul had happily gone along with it, loving every second. Somehow, they’d always been on the same wavelength. Sam had seemed to know exactly what kind of things Paul liked and their likes and dislikes always seemed to line up, as they had for most of their lives.

On the odd occasion that they had differing views on things, they always talked it out and found a good solution. Try as he might, Paul was terrible at sucking cock. He’d always had a very sensitive gag reflex and no amount of training seemed to calm it down. He could suckle on the head of Sam’s cock, but if he went any further than that, he’d be gagging and his throat would make unattractive noises. It had been really embarrassing and Paul had felt like he was failing Sam because he’d always dreamed of kneeling on the floor with his hands tied behind his back while Sam fucked his mouth. But after another failed attempt, Sam had put his foot down and said they had to talk about the situation.

“I don’t care if you never suck my cock. All I care about is you being happy and if sucking cock doesn’t make you happy, then stop doing it. If you wanna keep trying cause you hate not being good at it, then we can keep trying different things. But don’t do it for me. I’m the luckiest guy in the universe, even if I can’t shove my cock down your throat.”

Paul had admitted that it mostly bothered him because he really liked the idea of Sam asserting his dominance over him during the act and he hadn’t been sure what replacements they could find. Sam had thrown himself into finding a solution and they’d discovered tons of other ways that allowed Paul to feel just as submissive and good as sucking Sam’s cock would.

Because Sam had been so accepting of all of it and so happy to do those kinds of things, Paul hadn’t felt any shame associated with it. He had no idea if anybody else did things like that but he’d never cared. Having Sam write his name in permanent marker all over Paul’s skin before a two week stint in the bush had made Paul feel so loved and it had been such a comfort to peek under his blanket and pajama pants when he was in his bunk and see Sam’s name written on his stomach and legs. Getting fucked while his hands were tied behind his back and his ass was in the air had made both of them feel good. And that was all that mattered. Neither of them had ever given a shit whether other people would think their behaviour was okay or not.

Paul still has no idea why he’d liked those kind of things. Maybe because he’d trusted Sam so much? He’d known Sam would never hurt him, even when Paul was tied up in a way that wouldn’t allow him to defend himself. Or maybe it had been Sam’s strength? Always having been a big guy, Paul rarely came across people his own age who were his equals in terms of physical strength, until Sam. Sam could overpower him and yank him this way and that without breaking a sweat.

Paul had never been impressed with his own body until he’d spent so much time touching and worshipping Sam’s. They were built so similarly that Paul’s self-confidence had grown right alongside his relationship with Sam. It had been so fitting that Sam had been the driving force behind Paul experiencing so many sexual firsts with him, because Sam had been with him for most of the other firsts in his life since they’d met at the playground at the age of five: first day of school, first hockey game, first truck, first hockey goal, first hunt-without-their-dads, first snowmobile, first job.

It had seemed so natural that the first time Paul heard somebody other than his parents tell him that they loved him, it had come from Sam; the words whispered into his ear in the middle of the night when Sam had thought he’d been asleep. Sam’s the first person he’d ever shared a bed with and the first person Paul hadn’t felt awkward kissing or cuddling with. Sam’s also the first person Paul had fallen in love with, but Sam still holds the honour of having kept that position to this day. So really, that’s not a ‘first’; it’s an ‘only’.

And after seven glorious years, everything had fallen apart during one short, ugly conversation. That stupid, stupid, _stupid_ idea had popped into Paul’s head out of nowhere, alerting him to yet another desire that his body had harboured in secret for his entire life. But unlike the others ones which Sam had helped him discover—like being tied up or Paul giving control over to Sam during sex—this new idea had been very different.

A voice had piped up in Paul’s head, telling him he was disgusting and it was wrong to be aroused by something like that. But on the other hand, some people would think wanting to have someone come on their face would be disgusting and wrong too. Sam had been always been a huge fan of coming on Paul’s face and rubbing the cum into his skin or collecting it and sliding his cum-covered fingers into Paul’s mouth for him to eagerly suck clean. So Paul had thought that maybe, Sam would be on-board with his new idea.

He’d fretted over it for days and Sam had started getting worried over his weird attitude until Paul had finally gathered the courage to ask him what he thought about his idea. After all, Sam had been fully supportive of everything else and he’d always loved what they did together. So Paul had just blurted out his idea, trying not to let his nerves and excitement show. And for the first time in his life, Sam hadn’t been on his side.

At all.

There had been a long, awkward silence as they’d stared at each other until finally Sam had asked Paul to clarify what he’d said. After he’d repeated his seemingly brilliant idea, he’d waited for Sam to crack a smile and start talking specifics.

Instead, Sam had lost it. His face had twisted into a look of disgust, which Paul had never seen directed at him before. “What the fuck? Are you serious?!”

Paul had already felt a clench in his gut because this hadn’t followed their usual script, but he’d still been so sure that Sam would come around. But that hadn’t happened.

“That’s disgusting! What the fuck?! I can’t believe—Becker, just because we do some weird shit together doesn’t mean I’m gonna…I’m gonna…that’s disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking disgusting freak!”

There had been more words but Paul had gone into shock and he can’t remember them. Sam had grabbed his wallet and keys and stormed out, with the sound of his truck peeling out of the apartment parking lot following shortly after. Three days later, Sam had called him and his tone had been one of casual, forced politeness. The same voice Paul uses on customers when he’s having a bad day but needs to stay polite to make money.

“I don’t think this is gonna work out, Becker. We’re young and having fun like this is great, but it’s time for me to get serious and find somebody who’s right for me. You’re a great person, but I think it’s time we move on.”

That had been the last conversation they’d ever had. While Paul had his next two week stint in the bush—his skin covered in the fading letters of Sam’s name which Sam hadn’t re-written as he usually did—Sam had come to the apartment and taken all of his stuff, leaving a cheque to cover the remainder of his portion of the lease. By the time Paul got back home, Sam had left Gibson and disappeared.

Paul had been left with a half-empty apartment, a half-empty life and fully empty heart. The pain had been indescribable.

It had taken him years to put the shambles of his life back into order. He’d never achieved anything close to the happiness he’d felt when he’d been with Sam for those seven years, but he’s doing okay. Once he’d gotten out of Gibson and come to tiny Wiley—which up to that point had always just been a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blip on the highway that they had driven through a thousand times on their way to work or other towns—his life had improved a lot. Not being around constant reminders of Sam and the life they’d shared has helped.

He likes living in Wiley and he likes fixing cars and running the gas station. As for sex; going down south for vacation a few times a year and spending time in gay clubs in the city fulfills some of those needs, and the rest can be managed by his own two hands and one of the many dildos he’s made part of his life over the years. None of it’s a replacement for Sam—it never will be—but it’s not terrible. His life isn’t perfect, but it’s enjoyable and that’s the best he can hope for.

The tingle of the bell above the door pulls him out of his memories and he steels himself as Sam walks in. To his relief, Sam seems to be respecting Paul’s desire to keep their interactions professional and he waits patiently as Paul sets up the card machine and slides it over to him.

“Thanks, Cri—Paul.” Sam presses the buttons on the machine before turning it back to him.

“You want your receipt?” Paul asks.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, have a good night, sir.”

Sam opens his mouth, then slowly shuts it again. “You too, sir. Thank you.” Turning around, Sam walks away, the tingle above the bell letting Paul know when he’s gone.

Paul stays where he is, staring at the computer screen that has Sam’s credit card transaction on it until Sam starts his truck and pulls away, the sound of the engine fading away as he drives down the highway, removing himself and this unwelcome trip down memory lane.

Taking a deep breath, Paul closes his eyes and slumps against the counter, his heart aching.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s in shock for most of the hour drive back to Gibson. He’s driven this stretch of highway a thousand times in his life and he finds his thoughts constantly drifting off instead of focusing on the dark road and any wildlife that might think about sprinting across the road.

He can’t believe he ran into Paul after twenty damn years and Paul’s been in Wiley this entire time. Well, maybe not the entire time, but Sam knows Paul hasn’t been living in Gibson since he’d come back from the city. Sam knows that because he still finds himself constantly looking for Paul in crowds. Anybody who has Paul’s body shape is like a magnet, attracting Sam’s attention no matter what he’s doing.

He can’t believe this is happening. After twenty years of kicking himself for being a moron, he’d finally settled into a life he thought would make him happy. After he’d run away from Gibson and Paul and the rest of his life, he’d headed down south. At the time, he’d been so convinced that he’d done the right thing by breaking things off between them. The new...idea that Paul had suggested on that fateful day had come out of nowhere and Sam had reacted out of instinct without thinking about it.

A few days after he’d left their apartment, Sam had calmed down and that’s when he’d been at a cross-roads. A part of him had known that Paul wasn’t any of the horrible names Sam had called him and if Paul had a desire to try…that particular activity, there must be a valid reason behind it. But because Sam had been a dumb and stubborn 26-year old, he’d refused to admit to himself that he’d made a mistake. Instead, he kept telling himself that he’d made the right decision and that their relationship hadn’t been normal and it was good to have ended it.

The desire to not admit to himself what a fuck-up he was had kept him going for years. Not being in Gibson and living in the city allowed Sam to avoid thinking about his past. He didn’t want to be known as the ‘country boy’ anyway and he threw himself into making new friends and fitting in. For the first time in his life, he purposefully got a job that required him to wear a suit and tie to work and he sold his truck to buy a little puddle-jumper car thing that he’d spent his entire life making fun of. He’d devoted every second of his life to forgetting about Paul and the complicated emotions that were associated with him.

Then he’d been at a birthday party for one of his co-workers and somebody had given the guy a pair of handcuffs covered in pink feathers as a present. It was meant to be a joke, but the guy had played along, bragging how he’ll use them on his wife.

Sam had responded without even thinking about it. “If she’s gonna wear them for a while, make sure you wrap something over her wrists before you put them on or they’ll bite into the skin. The feathers are only decoration, they don’t do shit.”

He’d known that because his uncle was a cop and Sam had secretly stolen a pair of old handcuffs from him when he’d found out about Paul’s love of being tied up. But within a few minutes of wearing them, Paul had complained about how uncomfortable they were and they’d gone back to using tow straps or belts instead.

Sam had been looking at the handcuffs and he hadn’t noticed that everybody had been staring at him. When he’d finally looked up, he’d quickly re-played his words in his head and his heart had clenched with fear. He didn’t want any part of his old life bleeding into his life because his old life was full of regret and guilt, just waiting to tear him apart.

The birthday guy had smirked at him. “You’re into some freaky shit, eh?”

Everybody else had laughed, but that fear had quickly been replaced by shame, followed by anger. Luckily, the anger had been stronger than the shame. Possibly because Sam had always been the one doing the tying up and not being the one who liked to be tied up, but that wasn’t the point.

Paul wanting his hands tied up wasn’t ‘freaky shit’. It made both of them feel good. It made Sam so happy that he was allowed to take care of Paul like that and it was an honour to be given that trust. Not to mention that it made him feel powerful as hell, and it made Paul feel safe and loved. It had nothing to do with either of them being weird. It was an exchange of trust and power that made both of them feel good.

He’d opened his mouth to snap back at the rude comment—but then his own words from years before had come back to him.

“ _That’s disgusting! What the fuck?! I can’t believe—Becker, just because we do some weird shit together doesn’t mean I’m gonna…I’m gonna…that’s disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking disgusting freak!”_

And that’s when the fragile wall he’d built between himself and his past had come crumbling down. He’d known that the shame he’d felt when the guy had first laughed off the idea of bondage as ‘freaky shit’ had been a tiny fraction of the shame Paul must have felt when Sam had said almost the exact same cruel words to him. If it felt this bad to hear a stranger passing unfair judgment and saying horrible things, how bad must it have felt to have Sam—the person who had been an enthusiastic participant in all that stuff and the person who Paul had loved and trusted with all of his secrets—say those things?

The guilt had been overwhelming. That wall between his old life and his new life had come crashing down and trying to deal with his regret had been impossible. The pain of his broken heart and that crushing regret became his constant companions. He had no idea how to move on. How does somebody recover from hurting somebody who loves them, especially hurting them in such a cruel way?

He’s spent years wishing he could go back and re-do that one conversation. Why had he acted like a complete jerk? Why hadn’t he apologized for being a complete jerk and asked for Paul’s forgiveness? Why had he allowed his stupid pride to get in the way and ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him?

Nothing he tried helped heal those wounds. Deciding to stop running away from his past, he’d gotten involved in the BDSM scene in the city. On one hand, it had been nice to be surrounded by people who understood and didn’t judge him for what he liked. But on the other hand, every time he looked down at a sub kneeling in front of him or tied a sub to a bed, memories of Paul would haunt him. Doing scenes with subs who didn’t look anything like Paul helped and he did enjoy it for a while. It cemented his awareness that being a dom wasn’t just something he’d liked because Paul enjoyed being submissive, but it was something that made Sam feel good too.

But over time, that happiness had turned to guilt. How was it fair that Sam was enjoying himself and engaging in activities that he’d torn Paul apart for? How dare he seek solace in something that he’d disparaged? That guilt kept gnawing away at him until he’d finally stopped going to the clubs. He didn’t deserve such happiness.

Unfortunately, things continued getting worse rather than better. No matter what he did, he couldn’t move past the pain and regret that haunted him. After more than a decade in the city, he’d finally decided to move back up north and settled back in Gibson, hoping being back home would help.

He’d known it would hurt to be back in familiar surroundings—driving past their high school every day, shopping at the same grocery stores they’d frequented their entire lives, driving along the same highway that had been the start of so many of their adventures—but in a way, he feels he deserves that added pain. Losing access to the BDSM scene had also hurt, but again—that’s pain he deserves. He’d broken both their hearts with his own stupidity and he’ll spend the rest of his life paying for it. Not a day goes by that he hasn’t thought about Paul and missed him like hell.

And then out of nowhere, he comes face to face with Paul, in Wiley of all places. The irony that Paul might have been living in Wiley for years and that Sam’s driven past him a thousand times makes his heart ache.

He’s spent years thinking about what he’d say to Paul if he ever saw him again. The possibility of getting back together with him is a fantasy that’s too ridiculous for Sam to ever allow himself to spend time on. Sam doesn’t deserve to have Paul back and there’s no way somebody hasn’t snapped Paul up long ago. But the need to apologize still weighs heavily on his mind.

Unfortunately, Paul hadn’t wanted any part of his apology. It makes sense and Sam acknowledges that this is what he deserves. He’d fucked up everything and any suffering he lives with can’t even be compared to what he’d put Paul through.

* * *

Sam lies awake nearly the entire night, despite having spent half his day driving.

He wants to see Paul again. Not just to apologize, but he _needs_ to see Paul again. He’s spent years seeing Paul in every crowd, hearing Paul’s voice like an echo on the wind, feeling him next to him whenever he’s playing hockey or doing anything that reminds him of him. They’d spent almost their entire lives joined at the hip and Sam’s never adjusted to losing that. That constant ache in his heart reminds him every second of every day that he misses Paul like hell. As a friend, as a lover and as a sub. Paul had been his world and Sam had been his.

He spends the first few days of his week-off purposefully not allowing himself to drive near the highway, because he knows he’ll drive straight back to Wiley. The least he can do for Paul is respect his wishes to be left alone. But Sam’s heart is aching with pain and the love that’s never faded and his hands shake whenever he thinks about driving down to Wiley and his mind hums a constant cycle of: ‘Go see Paul, go see Paul, go see Paul’.

But it’s not just a desperate need to be around Paul that’s pulling him back to Wiley. His apology the other night hadn’t been good enough. Paul’s angry and that’s understandable, but based on Paul’s angry reaction, he’s angry at what Sam had done. If nothing else, Sam wants to explain that he fully acknowledges what a dumbass he is and that he’d made a huge mistake. None of it had been Paul’s fault and the regret of ruining their relationship is something Sam will live with for the rest of his life.

At the end, Sam decides that he has the right to tell Paul all of that. If Paul’s truly moved past their relationship, then Paul will just shrug off his words. But if Paul’s still haunted by what Sam had done, then maybe his words will help him heal?

Maybe that’s being selfish, but his feet are probably going to walk him to Wiley without his consent anyway, so Sam grabs the excuse and heads back to Wiley.

* * *

Paul’s off balance for the next few days; his mind constantly pulling up memories about Sam and the life they used to have. During the day, a thousand little things remind him of Sam. Once again, he’s back to not being able to watch hockey games on TV or even being able to look at the black permanent markers in the shop that are lying everywhere for labelling vehicle parts.

At night, more intimate memories plague him. At first, he refuses to give in, but when he’s wide awake two nights after Sam’s appearance, tossing and turning and his cock throbbing, he finally gives up and grabs one of the dildos from the box under his bed. As he’s done a million times over the last twenty years, he turns onto his stomach, pulls his knees up and fucks himself with the toy, closing his eyes and pretending it’s Sam.

But as always, it’s a poor substitute. It’s not Sam’s cock. Sam isn’t holding his hips. Paul’s hands aren’t tied behind his back with Sam tugging on the restraints to remind him that he’s under his control. Sam isn’t calling him Crick and telling him how amazing he is and how good he feels around his cock.

Before this whole mess, Paul had managed to get his grief to a stage where he could re-live his favourite memories of being with Sam without experiencing too much pain. But the shock of seeing Sam again brings all that pain back and he ends up sobbing into the sheets, unable to come as the dildo drops from his numb hand.

To make matters much worse, Sam doesn’t give him another twenty years to get past his pain. He returns four days after his last visit.

Paul’s in the shop, standing on a ladder and half buried in the engine of a semi-truck cab, trying to reach a hose that’s just out of reach when Leah calls his name.

“Yeah, what?” he calls out, hoping his voice carries enough that he doesn’t have to extricate himself from the engine before he gets at the hose.

“There’s somebody here to see you for a small job. Guy needs his brakes checked and says he has time. You wanna do it?”

Paul snorts as he stretches his arm as far as it can go, his shoulder and back aching. He still can’t reach the damn thing. “Don’t got a choice, do I?”

Winter might be their busy time due to the oil patch workers running up and down the highway on their way to jobs, but due to Wiley only being an hour from Gibson, most people don’t bother stopping here for anything. They do have their regulars who leave Gibson early and stop for coffee, food and a chat on their way out to the bush, and they get the leftovers when the mechanic shops in Gibson are overbooked, but Paul’s never in a position to turn down work. “Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”

After pulling himself out of the engine without leaving any of his limbs behind, he climbs off the ladder and grabs a rag on his way out of the shop to clean his hands.

The weather’s warmed up a bit now that the latest cold snap is done and it’s a nice 17 degrees below. That means Paul doesn’t have to spend all day wearing a toque or his thick jacket. Shading his eyes against the sun as he walks over the packed snow, he looks around for his customer…

…and his eyes land on a familiar truck with a familiar person leaning against it, staring down at his phone.

Coming to a dead stop, Paul stares at him. Due to the warmer weather, Sam’s not wearing a toque either. Like Paul, Sam’s hair has thinned over the years and he’s got more lines on his face, but none of that matters.

As always, there’s a flutter in Paul’s stomach and he resists the urge to grab Sam and press him against the hood of his truck, desperately wanting to touch every bit of that body hidden beneath the layers of clothes and desperately wanting Sam to touch him like he used to. At the same time, that pain comes back and Paul clenches his fists, wanting to go over there and punch Sam over and over again until he experiences just a tiny bit of the pain he lives with every day.

But neither of those things are an option. The first one isn’t an option because Paul isn’t ever gonna let Sam reel him in again. Fool him once, shame on Sam; fool him twice; shame on Paul. The second one’s not an option because Leah would turn the hose on them like she does whenever they get scrapping wolves in the yard and he and Sam would turn into frozen popsicles.

Despite hitting Sam not being an option, Paul’s anger grows the more he stares at Sam. Look at the fucking asshole. Standing there, leaning against his truck like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he thinks it’s funny to randomly show up in Paul’s life and torment him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Paul demands.

Thankfully, Leah’s gone back into the store and there’s nobody else around, which allows Paul to have this conversation without having to step closer.

Sam glances up from his phone and that achingly familiar smile lights up his face when he sees Paul. Stuffing his phone into his jacket pocket, he takes a step towards Paul, but when Paul glares at him, he seems to remember how Paul had reacted last time and steps back against his truck, his smile fading. “I—uh…I came to get my brakes checked. They seem a bit soft and I figured better safe than sorry, eh?”

Paul’s not taking the bait. He doesn’t care that they could use the money; he’s not going to play Sam’s stupid game and let himself get hurt again. “There are four mechanic shops in Gibson and you know it. Go take your truck there.”

Sam’s face falls, as if the conversation isn’t going the way he wants. “But I came all the way out here.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. If you’re really worried about your brakes, I’ll call you a tow to bring you back to Gibson.”

Sam’s face twists and he sighs, looking sad. “I just wanna talk. Please?”

“I told you, I have nothing to say to you and I’m not interested in what you have to say. I don’t know what kind of stupid game you’re playing, but I don’t have time for it. Go have your fun tormenting somebody else.”

A look of shock crosses Sam’s face and his eyebrows fly up. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to hurt you. I—fuck, that’s not…I can’t…”

Unfortunately, the tone of Sam’s voice tells Paul that he’s serious. Despite the rational part of Paul’s brain telling him to walk away, another part of him stays cemented to the spot. He’s never been able to walk away from Sam. Paul’s planet Earth while Sam’s his sun.

Against his better judgment, Paul sighs and unclenches his jaw. “Then why are you here? And don’t feed me shit about your brakes being soft. You being here instead of out in the bush means you’re on your week off and only a dumbass would drive an hour up the highway with soft brakes.”

Sam takes a deep breath and he looks nervous. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

The words are like a dagger to Paul’s heart. On one hand, he’s been waiting to hear these words for twenty years, but there’s such a finality to hearing them. Like Sam’s trying to officially close this long, drawn-out chapter of their lives and then Paul will be even more of a loser when he can’t ever get over this man. That brings on a rush of anger, which is good. Anger is better than sadness. “And what the hell are you sorry for?”

Sam’s jaw tightens and he looks pained. “I’m sorry for how I ended things between us. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ve regretted it every single day for the last twenty years. The least I can do is apologize to you. So...I’m sorry.”

Paul stares at him. Hearing Sam voicing the same emotions Paul’s lived with for twenty years brings on a flood of conflicting emotions; the strongest being anger. Sam _regrets_ destroying their lives. Oh, good. That makes it all okay then, right? That means Paul can now happily push all of this out of his mind and move on. Well, fuck him. Not only did Sam break his heart and life, but now he’s here, wanting Paul to forgive him?! He’d thrown Paul away like trash and now he’s come back, wanting to squeeze one last drop out of him before throwing him aside again?

Fuck. Him.

Clenching his jaw, Paul turns around and walks away, shaking with anger.

“Crick? Shit, sorry—Paul? Come on, I just wanna talk. Please?” Sam sounds devastated, but that’s nothing compared to the rage simmering in Paul’s gut.

He stomps up the steps to his house and fumbles for his keys to unlock the door. Once the door’s unlocked, he shoves his way inside and slams it shut behind him, sliding down. Sitting on the wooden floor, he stares at nothing, shaking with rage and pain.

* * *

Sam’s apology makes things even worse and having seen him twice in the last week is making Paul’s head spin. Unfortunately, apparently he hadn’t made it clear enough that he wanted Sam to take his apology, shove it up his ass and never stop in Wiley again, because Sam comes back the next day. This time, he stops at the gas pump again and starts filling up with gas.

Paul glares at him through the store window, his hand frozen as he’s clutching a customer’s credit card.

“Uh…can I get my card back?”

With difficulty, Paul tears his gaze off Sam as he’s grabbing the nozzle and filling up his truck and Paul pastes a smile on his face and hands the man his card back. “Sorry about that. Want your receipt?”

“No, thanks. Have yourself a good day.”

Paul manages to mutter “Have a good one” and he’s barely aware of the man leaving the store because he keeps staring at Sam, who seems to be taking his time at the pump.

Watching him closely, Paul can tell Sam’s nervous. He keeps sticking his hands into his pockets and shifting around as his truck fills up; both telltale signs that he’s uncomfortable.

Smiling with grim satisfaction, Paul thinks maybe Sam’s nervous that Paul’s gonna go off on him again. That anger simmers in his gut and he’s sorely tempted to go out there and tell Sam to get off his property. It’s absolutely within his rights to ban Sam from the property. Unless Sam’s having a genuine emergency while he’s on the highway, Paul could ban him for life. The idea makes his face twist into an ugly grin…

…but at the same time, his heart aches at the thought of hurting Sam and he knows he’ll never do it. Damn Sam and the stupid feelings he has for him.

He can’t believe the moron’s back. Filling up his truck is just an excuse. Paul knows Sam’s on his week off and even if he were heading up the highway to go somewhere, he always fills up in Gibson. Always. It’s a habit that’s been ingrained in them since they got their drivers licences. Sam’s back deliberately and from the way he’s acting, he’s nervous about seeing Paul again.

Unfortunately, Paul’s anger fades as quickly as it had come, leaving him just feeling tired. He doesn’t really care why Sam keeps coming around but it’s making things much harder for him. If Sam’s desperate for Paul’s forgiveness, then Paul should just give it to him and hopefully that will make him go away for good. He wants to go back to his quiet little existence. It might be a little lonely, but being pulled back and forth between intense rage and grief is exhausting. It reminds him of the first few years after Sam had left and Paul doesn’t want to go through that again.

With his mind made up, Paul waits for Sam to come inside.

Sam walks into the store and cautiously opens the door, looking around and his eyes immediately settle on Paul, his face twisting between a smile and a hesitant frown. His eyes are filled with such raw emotion that Paul has to look away, busying himself by punching the total from the gas pump into the credit card machine.

“Your total’s $32.57,” he calls over. “I hope that made the drive worth it. You’re gonna use up the 32 bucks of gas going back to Gibson.”

Sam slowly walks up to the counter, pulling his wallet out, staring at Paul with wide eyes and looking almost timid; as if he doesn’t understand what direction Paul’s taking the conversation.

Well, Paul’s made up his mind. He’ll be friendly, he’ll hear Sam out, he’ll pretend to forgive him and then he’ll send Sam away and that’s when he can focus on putting his shattered heart back into the cracked, shaky lump that he’s managed to get it to form over the last twenty years before Sam had come barging back into his life.

“I wanted to see you,” Sam mumbles, clutching his wallet with a tight grip. “I thought about calling but I wanted to do in person.”

Paul slides the machine over to Sam. “Pay first, then we’ll talk.”

Sam stares at him, frozen to the spot. “You’re gonna let me talk to you?”

Needing to hide how hard it is to suppress the anger and sadness in his heart, Paul busies himself by opening the drawer beneath the counter and sorting through the random crap in there, pretending to be looking for something. “Yup. I’m gonna let you say your piece, then you’re gonna go back to Gibson and we can get back to our lives and you’re gonna do your damn best to never stop in Wiley for anything.”

There’s no movement from Sam, so Paul is forced to glance at him and point at the machine. “But you’re gonna pay first.”

Sam startles back into motion. “Oh, right. Yeah.” He pulls the machine closer to him and punches the buttons.

Paul shuts the drawer and watches the computer screen, waiting for the card transaction to finalize. Once it does, Paul opens his mouth, but Sam beats him to it.

“I don’t need a receipt. Can we talk in my truck?”

Sam sounds terrified, like Paul will attack him or yell as soon as they’re alone. But Paul takes a deep breath and pastes a small smile on his face, hoping it’ll convey his intention to stay peaceful. “Sure. Lemme just get Leah to cover the store.”

Stepping over to the employee door behind him, Paul knocks on it. “Leah? I gotta step out for a few minutes. Can you cover?”

The soft sounds of the television switches off from inside the room and Leah’s voice drifts through the door. “Sure.”

Stepping around the counter, Paul heads towards the door, giving Sam a polite smile. “Come on, let’s go chat.”

He keeps his breathing even and hooks his thumbs into his pockets. It allows him to flatten his hands against his thighs so Sam won’t notice how badly they’re shaking. His stomach is twisting with nerves, anger and grief, but he keeps going, stopping at Sam’s truck and opening the passenger door and getting in.

Sam’s white hard hat is sitting on his passenger seat, covered in safety orientation stickers from the oil company he’s working for. Seeing it reminds Paul of how they used to keep their hard hats stuck on hooks right inside their apartment door, side by side. Grabbing it, Paul throws it into the backseat with more force than necessary. Taking a deep breath, he slams the door shut behind him and pushes those memories away.

He has to do this. This is the only way he’ll get Sam out of his life again and get himself back on the path of healing he’s been trying to navigate for the last twenty years.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting in a truck next to Sam is a hundred times harder than he thought it was going to be. He can’t even count how many times they’d driven in a truck together and Sam drives the exact same way he always has; his left leg slumped against the door and his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand on the arm rest. His window’s open a few inches, which is how it’s always stayed no matter the weather or temperature. Sam always complained about the stale air in the cab during long drives but he always forgot to put the window up once he got to his destination. It’s a habit Sam’s parents and Paul had tried to break him of to no success and has led to him waking up in the morning after a big snowfall to a truck that’s filled with snow.

Paul’s about to make fun of him for having his window down, but he abruptly remembers that’s not why he’s here. It’s not twenty years ago and they’re not heading out camping or hunting together. They’re just driving to the pull-out half a kilometre away so they can have privacy and Paul won’t be distracted by customers needing help. Sam is going to apologize, Paul will accept his apology, then Sam will drop him off and disappear from his life again. Having his past clash with his present in such a visceral way makes Paul’s throat tighten and he struggles to keep breathing as he stares out at the snow covered forest lining the highway.

They reach the pull-out and Sam turns off the engine, leaving his keys swaying from the ignition.

Paul stares at the bundle of keys. As it’s always been, it’s a huge mass of keys. Sam always liked the feel and sound of many keys—as a teenager, he’d admitted to Paul that it made him feel more grown-up to have many keys—and he always kept every key he got his hands on, even if it belonged to an apartment, truck or snowmobile he’d stopped using ages ago. Despite it being a flagrant security issue, Sam would make multiple copies of all the keys he’d be given so he could always keep the original as a keepsake and surrender the copies when he sold the vehicle or moved out. By the time they’d hit their twenties, the key bundle had become unmanageable and Sam had been forced to carefully pick over his selection and only keep the old keys that meant something special to him.

Paul wonders if Sam still has the key to their old apartment on there.

Silence settles around them, only broken sporadically by a vehicle zooming past them on the highway. He waits for Sam to start talking. If he can’t get going, Paul will help, but it makes him feel a bit of vindictive pleasure that he’ll make Sam’s life a little difficult first.

When Sam just keeps staring through the windshield and jiggling his right leg, Paul decides to make things easier for him. “So how the hell did you run out of gas on your way back into town the other night? That’s a rookie move, Deacon.”

Sam laughs. There’s tension in his laugh, but the leg jiggling gets less intense. “I know, eh? I have a new roughneck on my crew and the kid was so damn excited to get out there that he didn’t fuel up before he left Gibson. He barely made it to site. There’s no way he would have made it back out to the highway on the fumes he had left, never mind back to town. He took our jokes really well for the whole two weeks so I filled him up with my cans. I knew I’d make it back to Wiley before I ran out.”

“Hopefully he learned his lesson, huh?”

“I called his mom and told her to buy him jerry cans.”

Paul laughs. “So he’ll be ready to go when you guys go back up, plus you can tell everybody his mom bought his cans. Two birds, one stone, eh? Good job, Deacon.”

Sam laughs, then falls silent again.

Paul’s about to open his mouth and tell Sam to say his piece already, when Sam twists in his seat and stares at the side of his head. Deliberately not turning his head, Paul keeps staring out at the endless snow-covered forests and rolling hills surrounding them.

“I’m really damn sorry, Cri—Paul. I…leaving you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. Every stupid thing I’ve ever done in my life is nothing compared to leaving you. I know you’ll never forgive me and that’s something I gotta live with. But it’s been eating me alive that I’ve never apologized.”

Without even trying, that old anger comes rushing back. Paul clenches his jaw. “Why now? After all this fucking time, why are you so desperate to talk about this now?”

“Cause I’m a coward. Cause I’m a dumbass. Cause I spent years trying to convince myself that I did the right thing, and failing miserably. When I finally admitted to myself what a huge mess I’d made, it was too late to apologize. Anyway, I thought you’d moved on and didn’t need my apology. I was so sure you’d found somebody and gotten married after they legalized it in ’05.” Sam’s voice is tense when he says that last part, as if he’s unhappy even saying those words. “But I realized that I need to apologize for my own sake.”

This conversation is making Paul’s entire body hurt. There’s a small part of him that’s wanting to get out of the truck and get away from Sam, but there’s a much bigger part of him—the part that’s still desperately in love with Sam—that’s excited about all these little details Sam’s telling him.

Sam’s been thinking about him for the last twenty years. Sam’s sorry for how things had ended. Sam’s marital status and relationship status are still a little unclear, but Paul isn’t getting the impression that he’s with anybody. There’s no way Sam would still be this worried over something that happened twenty years ago if he were happily distracted with a new relationship. An old, familiar feeling is bubbling up through Paul.

Hope.

That burning, bright poison had made it impossible for him to change anything about his routine for years after Sam had left. Paul has spent decades viciously stomping that hope into the ground and trying to get away from it. And now Sam’s sitting right next to him, telling him he regrets how things had ended and giving other signs that their break up is still weighing on him. The hope feeds off those words and grows stronger, taking only seconds to regain the strength Paul had painstakingly pulled from it over the years.

Oblivious to the pain Paul’s experiencing, Sam keeps talking. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I owe you an apology. I fucked things up so badly.”

Due to that hope burning brightly in his heart again, Paul suddenly has to ask. Even if he gets shot down, he’ll live with it. The hope won’t let him not ask. “Did you only wanna say sorry?”

“Huh?”

“Is that the only reason you wanted to find me? Just to say sorry and then leave again?”

Sam’s quiet for a beat, staring at him. “Well…I did…it’s a little…”

Turning away from the window, Paul stares at him. Sam’s eyes are wide and he’s pale, looking terrified.

They stare at each other, neither brave enough to put their thoughts into words. Paul sure as hell can’t ask Sam if he wants him back. Just the thought of Sam looking at him with pity and trying to politely turn him down would kill him.

It has to come from Sam. Well, if that’s even what Sam wants to talk about. Maybe Sam’s trying to find a way to tell him he’s actually happily married or living with his boyfriend in Gibson and he wants to make sure Paul won’t make a scene if he sees them together? Maybe he wants to make sure Paul won’t out him? They’ve never been open about it back in Gibson and being single makes it easy to side-step conversations about significant others. Paul’s never told anybody he’s gay. He’s sure some people have put the pieces together, but for the most part it’s a non-issue that’s not relevant to his daily life. But if Sam’s in a relationship, it would be more relevant for him. Panic wells up in Paul’s throat and he can’t decide if he wants Sam to be single or not.

For some reason, his eyes land on the keys in Sam’s ignition and suddenly, he knows how to get the answer to his question without Sam having to say a word.

Reaching over, he yanks the enormous bundle of keys out of the ignition and flips through them. He doesn’t recognize many of them, but he knows the one he’s looking for. There’s nothing special about it, but it’s a key Paul’s stared at thousands of times over the last twenty years and every notch is engraved in his memory.

Sam’s quiet as Paul keeps flipping through the keys. Panic is making his heart race as he approaches the last batch of keys…

…and there it is. Their old apartment key. It even has the faded remains of the ‘403’ sticker on it.

Paul’s breath catches and he stares at Sam, who’s staring back at him, his eyes wide. Opening his mouth, Paul tries to make words come out, but there’s nothing. Instead, he digs into his pocket and pulls out his own keys. There aren’t as many as on Sam’s keychain but from the very start, Paul had adopted Sam’s sentimental—and ethically dubious—habit for keeping the keys that have a very special place in his heart.

His childhood house, his first truck…and their apartment key. His copy doesn’t have the ‘403’ sticker on it because he’d dropped his keys into a puddle a few years ago and despite trying to save the old sticker, it had disintegrated from the moisture. Paul hates remembering how hard he’d cried that night.

From the soft sound Sam makes, Paul knows he recognizes the key, despite the sticker being gone. Unfortunately, Sam still can’t seem to find his words.

Paul clutches both copies of the key and closes his eyes. “If you’re with somebody else, tell me right now.”

“What?”

“If you’re not single, tell me right now cause I don’t know where the fuck we’re going with this and it’s making my head spin.”

Sam lets out a shaky laugh. “Crick, I haven’t…I haven’t even bothered trying. I’ve spent twenty fucking years missing you and beating myself up over losing you. I never wanted anybody else. I don’t deserve to have you back, but that’s my own fault. Still, I’ve never wanted anybody else. Don’t know if I ever will.”

Paul clenches his jaw, shaking. Sam calling him ‘Crick’ and the rest of his words are making his head spin.

_“I don’t deserve to have you back.”_

“Do you?” Paul demands.

“Do I...what?”

Fuck, that hadn’t made much sense. That hope is bursting into a raging wildfire and Paul can barely keep his thoughts straight. “Do you want me back? If that option were on the table?”

There’s a quick intake of breath from Sam and there’s no hesitation before he’s blurting out a reply. “Yes. I’d do anything. _Anything_. Whatever you want, however you want, whenever you want; I’d do it.”

His breath catching, Paul thinks he’s either gonna pass out or crawl on top of Sam and kiss him. These are words he’s heard in his dreams and fantasies a thousand times and he never thought they’d become reality. Shaking, he tries to keep his breathing even as his heart races. Swallowing hard, he turns to the window and stares out, trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Sam shifts. “Is…that option on the table? Will it ever be? Is there anything I can do to…put it on the table?” He sound so desperate and hopeful.

And Paul wants to burst into tears. What the hell is happening?! He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think but there are a thousand thoughts racing through his head, all screaming and banging around the inside of his skull.

“Crick? Is that...something you’d ever consider? Cause I mean it—I’d do anything. I—”

“Stop.” Paul’s really on the verge of passing out.

“What?”

“Stop. I need…I can’t think. Shut up and let me think.”

Sam obediently falls silent and Paul keeps staring out the window, trying to slow his thoughts down and sort through them. First, he has to figure out if he’s going crazy or if this is actually what he thinks it is. Turning to Sam, he gives him a hard look. “Are you really talking about maybe getting back together?”

Sam’s eyes widen and he looks like he’s going to pass out too. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “That’s your choice. I don’t have the right to ask.”

Paul clenches his jaw, so tightly strung that Sam’s timidness is pissing him off. “Of course you have the fucking right.”

“I destroyed everything. I fucked everyth—”

“But you’re sorry and I believe that. So if you need me to forgive you, if that’ll move this conversation forward, then okay. I forgive you. I accept your apology. I absolve you of your fuck-up. Now please, _please_ let’s move past that and talk about the future cause I can’t take a lot more of this.”

Sam’s face twists and his eyes are bright with unshed tears as he blinks rapidly and slumps against his seat, staring out through the windshield.

They sit in silence for a while until Paul can’t take it anymore. The hope is burning him up and he can barely breathe. “So now that I forgave you, if that option were still on the table, would you want it? Or did you just want it cause you felt guilty?”

Sam sucks in a shaky breath. “Always,” he whispers. “I’ll always want you back. That has nothing to do with me feeling guilty. I’ll always feel guilty but those are separate things.”

Paul chews on his lip. “What if I told you that I was interested in that option too?”

“I…if you’re fucking with me then…well, I guess you have the right and I deserve to suffer, but—”

Slamming his fist on the arm rest between them, Paul glares at Sam. “You seriously think I’d waste my time fucking around like this? We’re both 46 year old grown-ups with jobs and lives and responsibilities. Besides, I know you. If I wanted you to suffer, I’d have pretended not to remember you or I’d have ignored you. That would hurt you a lot worse than playing some stupid joke on you.”

Sam’s staring at him, still looking terrified.

Cursing under his breath, Paul grabs hold of the apartment keys on both sets of keys that are still on his lap and holds them up for Sam to see. “Look at these. You know what this means. You _know_ you do. What part of this says either of us are fucking around, huh?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam takes a shaky breath. “Would you really gimme a second chance?” he whispers.

Paul sighs. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? It’s one thing to wish he had Sam back, but it’s another to actually confront the idea that he’ll get Sam back for real. He has no doubt that the Sam in his dreams isn’t the same as the Sam sitting next to him. He hadn’t protected himself last time. He’d jumped right into things with both feet without looking and it had destroyed him. “We’d have to talk about it. I barely survived you leaving me the first time and I don’t think I’ll survive the second time. I gotta look out for myself.”

Sam lets out a pained sound and scrubs his hands over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” Blinking hard, Sam gives his head a shake and turns to him, looking stronger and ready to tackle whatever problem Paul brings them.

Seeing that strength and confidence sends a shudder of want through Paul, but he ignores it. Now isn’t the time for that. Maybe Sam’s sexual tastes have completely changed over the years so maybe Paul will have to lock his…special desires away somewhere, but that’s not the point of this conversation.

“You can’t do what you did last time,” he tells Sam. “That was bullshit.”

Sam nods frantically. “I know. Trust me, I know. I was a dumbass. What you wanted to do was a little…unusual, but—”

Paul holds up a hand, his heart skipping a beat. “Stop, stop, stop. I don’t wanna talk about that…thing.”

“You don’t wanna talk about it…today? Or…?”

“Definitely not today. Probably never. I haven’t…I haven’t thought about that in years. I’ve never actually done that with anybody and I’m happy leaving it in the past.”

Paul hopes Sam won’t catch that Paul didn’t say he isn’t interested in it anymore. He sometimes allows himself to indulge in fantasies where his stupid idea becomes reality and he and Sam both love it. But Sam wasn’t keen on the idea and Paul isn’t going to re-open that can of worms. Probably ever.

“I don’t wanna talk about any of that,” Paul says. “I don’t wanna talk about sex at all. That’s not something we ever had problems with. It didn’t hurt that you didn’t wanna try my idea. I would’ve been fine if you’d just said you didn’t like the idea and we could’ve moved on. But you panicked and got rid of me like I was trash.”

Sam makes a devastated sound.

“You can’t do that again cause that wasn’t fair. We gotta communicate. And I accept some responsibility for the whole thing. I always let you call the shots and you weren’t used to me suggesting new things. I just blurted it out without any explanation and that put a huge amount of pressure on you. We both have to do a better job talking about things. That’s the only way this would work out…if we do it.”

Nodding frantically, Sam clears his throat. “I can do that. I swear, I can.”

“Okay. Another thing: I’d wanna take things slow. Our lives have changed, we’ve changed and we can’t assume that we’re both exactly the same as we were twenty years ago. We can’t just pick up where we left off and pretend the last twenty years never happened. They did happen and ignoring them won’t be good for either of us.”

Sam takes a shaky breath. “I know I hurt you, Crick,” he whispers. “I’ll do so much better, I promise.”

To his surprise, the more this conversation moves towards what he’s been dreaming about for decades, the more nervous Paul becomes. His hands twitch as if he’s trying to grip a steering wheel, feeling like his truck hit a patch of ice and the truck’s moving under its own power and Paul’s only hope for avoiding a disaster is to make slow, careful movements. “I need time, Sam.”

There’s more frantic head nodding. “Okay. You can have as much as time as you want. I’ll be ready if you decide you’re ready. Or if you decide you change your mind, I won’t make things difficult.”

Paul takes a deep breath. “You’re on your week off, right?”

“Yeah.”

Digging his old but always reliable flip phone out of his pocket, Paul opens the contacts. “Gimme your number.”

Sam’s staring at his phone. “Why are you still using a flip phone?”

“Are you gonna bitch about my phone or give me your number?”

Wisely choosing the better of the two options, Sam mumbles his way through the numbers and Paul punches them into his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Paul sees Sam’s hand twitching as if he’d been about to pull his own phone out, but he’s still being overly cautious. “Your memory’s always been shit, Deacon. Get your phone out or you’re gonna forget my number in about five seconds.”

Sighing with relief, Sam pulls out his phone and Paul watches him add his number.

Once he’s put his phone back into his pocket, Paul looks at Sam. “I need time to think. Leave me alone the rest of this week and then do your shift. I’ll call you when you’re coming back down.”

That will give him two and a half weeks. Plenty of time to calm himself down and decide if he’s truly ready to do this.

“Okay. I won’t call you unless my shift changes.”

“Okay.” Paul hands Sam his keys. “Drive me back to the station, please. I gotta get back to work.”

Without a word, Sam starts the truck, turns around and drives him back to the gas station. To Paul’s relief, Sam doesn’t try to engage him in chit-chat or pressure him to make promises. Once Sam has pulled into the snow covered lot, he stops in front of Paul’s home that sits on top of the mechanic shop.

Undoing his seatbelt, Paul gives Sam a long look. “Two and a half weeks. If you don’t hear from me, assume that my answer’s no.”

A muscle jumps in Sam’s jaw, but he nods. “Okay.”

Opening the door, Paul glances back at him. “Go relax and have a good shift. Drive safe. And give your roughneck hell for me, yeah?”

That brings a little smile to Sam’s face. “I will.”

Not knowing what else to say that won’t include making promises that Paul isn’t ready to make, he shuts the door and heads towards the store. Behind him, Sam’s truck wheels crunch over the gravel and snow and Paul listens to him pull onto the highway and drive towards Gibson.

Not for the first time, Paul’s happy that his little corner of the world doesn’t get a lot of visitors. He’ll have plenty of time to think.

* * *

As Sam had promised, he doesn’t re-appear in Wiley and he doesn’t try to call Paul. The first thing Paul does is try to put the whole situation out of his mind so he can revisit things with fresh eyes.

Unfortunately, he can’t help but look at every truck that zooms past on the highway, checking to see if it’s Sam’s truck, so he decides to do his annual spring cleaning of the mechanic shop a few months earlier than planned and spends the rest of the week cleaning and organizing the shop while Leah guards the store. Between the cars and trucks he has to work on, the shop clean-up, dealing with the monthly grocery delivery for the store, going over the month-end accounting with Leah and dealing with the customers who come through, he has plenty to keep him busy until he’s ready to re-examine the situation with a calmer mind.

On the day he knows Sam is driving up to the bush, he keeps himself busy in the shop so he doesn’t spend the entire morning staring at every truck driving past. But once the morning rush is past, he knows Sam’s up in the bush and won’t be coming down for two weeks, which means Paul’s ready to think.

He wants to make sure he won’t get hurt again. There has to be some way to guarantee that he won’t risk heartbreak again. Except he knows there’s no such guarantee. Relationships require trust and he’d learned that lesson the hard way. Not trusting the other person doesn’t allow for the type of closeness that Paul’s craving. But trusting the other person means putting his heart on the line again and having no guarantee that Sam won’t break it again.

Paul has to figure out if risking that heartbreak again is worth being with Sam. Would he rather spend the rest of his life living his quiet, solitary existence and continuing to hope that his heart will eventually heal, or does he want to be with Sam again and get all that happiness back but also risk having things fall apart again?

The rational part of his brain tries pointing out that he doesn’t need to take the risk. He might get a little lonely from time to time, but in general, he lives a pretty decent life. But every time he lets his mind wander even for a moment, the memories come flooding back.

Sam throwing his feet on his lap as they lounge on the couch, watching hockey games on TV.

Sam wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder and sliding his hands into Paul’s pants and underwear to hold his cock as Paul’s washing dishes or doing any other ordinary task at home; a constant reminder that Paul’s given every part of himself to Sam and it’s Sam’s responsibility to take care of him.

Sam sleeping next to him, snoring softly, his chest pressed up against Paul’s back and his hand loosely wrapped around Paul’s cock.

Sam singing along to a country song as they drive up the highway to go camping or hunting.

Sam kissing his neck, his arms tightly wrapped around him, Sam’s chest pressed to his back with Paul’s tied up hands between them and Paul shivering and his cock aching as Sam’s hard cock presses against his ass until finally, Sam slides into him, nuzzling the back of his neck as he fucks him and whispers ‘You’re amazing, Crick’ into his ear.

The memories always make that old love glow in his heart and Paul shakes with the desperate need to have all of that back. He needs Sam to touch him. He needs Sam to hold him, kiss him, fuck him, protect him. He needs Sam to love him. He needs Sam to take care of him again.

Before Sam’s first day in the bush is done, Paul’s already made up his mind. He wants everything back, even if he’s risking everything again. If he gets to have everything back, even for a little while, it’ll make him feel so good that it’ll be worth it. Maybe he’ll change his mind once everything’s done and he’s left abandoned and torn to shreds again, but there’s no way he can convince himself not to take this chance when it’s right in front of him.

It’s pure torture waiting until Sam’s done his shift, but Paul doesn’t want to distract him when he’s working on the rig. He keeps himself busy and spends way too much time staring at his watch and the calendar on his fridge, willing the days to go faster. Another nice distraction is spending more time with his dildos. Now that his fantasies have a real chance of becoming reality once again, he no longer battles that crushing sadness as he fucks himself and he has no trouble coming. It’s still not a replacement for the real thing, but it helps take the edge off as he waits, giddy with the knowledge that he’ll soon have the real thing back.

* * *

Surviving his two-week shift requires the kind of mental discipline Sam hasn’t had to use since he’d played hockey in high school. Back then, it had been torture watching Paul getting changed in the locker room and seeing him smiling beneath his helmet and sweating as he’d body check opposing players into the rink boards. Grabbing Paul and kissing him hadn’t been an option back then—for various reasons, the main one being that Sam hadn’t known that kissing Paul would be a welcome thing—and Sam also had to stay focused on the game. Not staying focused would mean not playing well, which might have led to him getting cut and that would have taken him away from seeing Paul up close during games.

Now, Paul is once again Sam’s main motivation to focus on his work and not his dick. He’d promised to give Paul time and that’s what he needs to do. But he can’t shut down the fantasies that are distracting him every few minutes. He’d never allowed himself to fantasize about getting back together with Paul or what life would have been like if he’d never broken things off between them, but those thoughts have always been waiting in the background, eager to be invited in. And now that he’s opened that door a crack, they’ve come flooding in and Sam finds himself constantly thinking about them.

That’s fine when he’s eating in the dining shack or trying to sleep, but it’s a safety hazard when he’s on the rig floor and he refuses to allow his fantasies to take priority over the lives of his crew. So he spends twelve hours each day standing on the rig, keeping a close eye on his crew and coaxing the drill to slowly chomp through a kilometre and a half of solid rock to get at the oil and gas hidden below, while his fantasies lie dormant. But when he’s off the rig floor, he allows his fantasies to take over.

There’s still a chance that Paul won’t want to resume their relationship and that will be devastating, but Sam allows himself to hope for the best and he eagerly counts down the days until his shift is done.

* * *

On the day Sam’s going to come down from the bush, Paul waits until noon to call him. By that time, he knows Sam’s done the change-over for the next shift and he’s on his way home.

His hands shake as he presses the buttons that will call Sam. His entire body’s vibrating, every cell in his body desperate to touch Sam and to be touched with him. Not only is he turned on, but he’s nervous too. Part of him wants to jump on Sam as soon as he sees him, but the nervous part of him is also scared; worried over how Sam will react and how things will have changed between them.

It’s no surprise when Sam picks up after just one ring. “Hi.” He sounds breathless, anxious, like he’s as nervous as Paul.

“Hi. Are you driving down?” Paul’s lips feel numb and he presses a hand against his aching cock.

“Yeah. I’m just passing through Neston.”

Neston. 380 kilometres from Wiley. That means Sam’s four hours from Wiley. Paul just has to wait four hours. “Okay.”

“Did you think about things?”

Paul blinks and he’s momentarily confused, wondering what the hell Sam’s talking about. Then he remembers that he hasn’t actually told Sam his decision yet. “I…yeah. Yeah, I did. I…want everything back. Right now. I want everything back. If that’s what you want, then…then that’s good.”

Sam sucks in a shaky breath. “Yeah, I want that too. Can I stop by on my way down?”

Paul wants to laugh and say something flippant like ‘Only as long as you fuck me when you’re here’ but they’re not back to that dynamic yet. Hopefully they’ll get there, but Sam’s been respectful to him and Paul has to treat him with the same decency. “Yeah, I’d like that. Are you gonna want dinner?”

“That’d be nice, thanks.”

“Are you gonna want dinner right away?”

Sam doesn’t respond for a moment. His voice is tight when he does find his words. “That depends…on what else you were planning. If dinner’s the main plan, then I’m happy to eat whenever. But if…other things are on the table, then we can do dinner later. I can help cook.”

Paul can’t catch the little moan that makes it out of his throat as he thinks about what those ‘other things’ will involve and he presses his hand against his cock through his pants, clenching his jaw so he doesn’t come in his pants. It’s unbelievable how his body’s reacting! It seems his body’s completely forgotten that he’s not 21 anymore.

Sam makes a soft sound. “Crick?”

“Hmm?”

“I gotta hang up the phone and listen to music or I’m gonna be going 130 and I’ll get fired.”

Paul manages a shaky chuckle. “Stupid GSP systems, eh? Don’t your bosses know you have important things to do? Or rather, important people to do?”

A strained laugh is his only response. “Fuck, I’m serious. I’m gonna come in my pants and I’ll end up in the ditch and that’s not gonna get either of us what we want. Just so we’re clear: do you wanna talk first or are we jumping right back into things? Cause if it’s the first one, that’s fine, but I gotta pull over somewhere and get myself calmed down. And by that, I mean I gotta jerk off cause no amount of distraction is gonna calm my dick down at this point.”

Paul squeezes his eyes shut, a shiver running through him. “Don’t you dare. We probably _should_ talk first, but fuck it. The second you see me, I want your hands all over me and I want my hands all over you. Thoughts?”

“I like that plan.”

“Good. Now open the windows, listen to music and focus on the road. If you get yourself killed before you get here, I’m gonna off myself, find you in hell and make hell look like a picnic.”

That makes Sam laugh and this time, it’s his genuine, happy laugh.

Fuck, Paul’s missed his laugh so much. Not wanting to distract Sam again, Paul hangs up the phone and goes to get ready. Since Sam seems to be onboard with picking up where they’d left too—to a certain extent—Paul goes into the bedroom and opens himself up, sliding in one of his favourite plugs to give his twitching, desperate hole something to clench on. Feeling full helps calm him down somewhat and he spends the rest of the time cleaning up his apartment a bit and seeing what he has in his fridge while checking his watch every few minutes to see how long he still has to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Paul had been counting down the time so intently that the sound of a knock on his door startles him. It’s twenty minutes earlier than he’d been expecting and a grin spreads over his face.

Trembling, he rushes over to the door and hauls it open, finding an equally grinning and shaking Sam on the other side. Due to the warmer weather, Sam’s wearing his thinner blue coveralls with his H2S monitor still clipped on his pocket and a few pens—including a damn permanent marker—still in his front pocket. He hadn’t taken the time to get changed before leaving site, which tells Paul how eager he was to get down here. His coveralls are filthy, as are his steel toe boots and he looks as gorgeous as he always has.

“Hi,” Paul breathes out.

Sam’s smile is trembling. “Hi.”

Clutching the door, Paul is so desperate to touch him that his heart’s racing. “Tell me how you wanna do this. Cause if you leave it up to me, I’m gonna grab you and not let go for the entire week you’re off.”

Sam’s eyes are bright and he blinks hard, nodding frantically. “Okay.”

Not wasting another second, Paul grabs Sam and hauls him inside, kicking the door closed and flipping the deadbolt before he’s slamming Sam against the wall, his hands clutching Sam’s coveralls.

They stare at each other, their faces only inches apart. When Sam lets out a little whine, that breaks the last bit of control Paul has and he presses his lips against Sam’s.

Sam whimpers and his hands wrap around Paul’s waist, pulling him close.

Closing his eyes, Paul kisses Sam and licks at his closed lips, letting out a soft sound when Sam parts his lips and Paul slips his tongue in, finding Sam’s. Kissing Sam is so damn familiar. He kisses exactly the same as he always has and Paul melts into the kisses, pressing against Sam’s strong, familiar body as his entire body seems to let out a breath he’s been holding for twenty years. Running his hands up Sam’s coveralls, he puts his hands on Sam’s face, the scratchy stubble coarse against his fingers. Sam hadn’t shaved that morning.

Sam’s arms tighten around him and he presses a leg against Paul’s throbbing cock, sending a jolt of heat through him and making him pull off Sam’s lips with a soft cry, rubbing himself shamelessly against Sam’s thigh.

His eyes shining, Sam’s grinning at him as he presses his forehead against Paul’s, tightening his grip on him and pressing harder against him. “I wanna suck your cock. Please let me suck your cock,” he whispers, his breath warm on Paul’s face.

Wordlessly, Paul nods. He can’t seem to let go of Sam’s face and Sam seems to understand, catching his lips with his and kissing him hard while his hands fumble to find the buttons and zipper on Paul’s pants, opening them and shoving them down enough to reach into his underwear and wrap around his hard cock.

The first touch of Sam’s callused, thick fingers on his cock makes Paul shudder so hard that his breath catches and he nearly comes, gasping against Sam’s lips as panic claws at him. He doesn’t want to come yet, he doesn’t want to come yet, he doesn’t—

Sam’s hand tightens on his cock, right at the base, squeezing in that gentle but firm way he always did when he didn’t want Paul to come yet and tears of gratitude spring to Paul’s eyes as he shakes like a leaf.

“Shhh…” Sam whispers against his face, nuzzling his nose with his own and kissing him softly. “Take a deep breath. If you do come, that’s okay, but I wanna make this good for you.”

Sliding his hands around Sam’s neck, Paul presses his forehead against Sam’s, surrounded by Sam’s familiar scent. Feeling Sam’s strong hand around his cock is making his heart race as relief floods him. He has Sam back. Sam’s going to take care of him. Sam’s going to love him and take care of him and he’s not alone any more.

Closing his eyes, he struggles not to cry and Sam nuzzles his face with his nose and lips. “It’s okay, Crick,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you. Starting right now, I’m gonna take care of you for the rest of our lives, I promise.”

With his heart thumping in his chest, Paul presses closer to Sam as Sam tightens his grip around his back while keeping a firm hold on his cock, settling him. Copying Sam’s calmer breathing, Paul gradually calms and lets Sam pull him back from the edge, letting himself relax against Sam’s strong body, his cock pressed between them.

Finally, Sam pulls back a bit. “Let’s get into the bedroom. I want you on a bed where I’ve got more room.”

Smiling, Paul wraps his arms around Sam’s neck, burying his face in his neck and closing his eyes. Slowly, he finds himself moving, Sam not releasing his grip on his back and his cock as Paul’s guided backwards into his bedroom. He keeps his eyes closed, not needing to see where they’re going. Sam won’t allow anything bad to happen to him.

Eventually, Sam pulls back from him, making Paul whine and cling to him harder, which makes Sam kiss him hard and squeeze his cock. “Shhh. I wanna get our clothes off and then I’m not gonna let go of you for hours, I promise.”

“Okay, fine,” Paul grouses, but he allows Sam to strip him and gently push him down on the bed. When he lands, Paul’s abruptly reminded of the plug he’s wearing and he shifts to make sitting a little more comfortable.

He watches as Sam strips off his coveralls; his gas monitoring device and pens scattering across the floor as he yanks the garment off and pulls off the shirt and jeans he’s wearing underneath.

Despite Sam having gotten a little softer around the middle—just like Paul—and his arms and legs no longer being as toned as they’d been twenty years ago, the sight of Sam naked makes Paul’s cock start aching again. To his joy, he notices Sam’s cock looks exactly the same, thick and hard, making Paul clench around the plug in his ass.

Sam grins down at him and gives his thigh a gentle swat. “Get up further on the bed. I wanna get my mouth on your cock and I need room.”

Smiling, Paul slides across the bed, digging his feet into the mattress, which exposes his ass to Sam. He’d forgotten that Sam hadn’t known about the plug until Sam sucks in a sharp breath and scampers onto the bed, shoving Paul’s legs apart and pressing his thighs up, raising Paul’s ass.

Paul grins as Sam stares down at his ass. No doubt, the sight of the big red plug and his lubed rim stretched around it is an attractive sight for Sam. “Like what you see?”

“Crick…” Sam doesn’t say anything else, he just keeps staring down at his ass, tightly gripping Paul’s thighs.

Feeling Sam holding his legs like this and staring hungrily at his ass is sending tingles through Paul and he clenches around the plug. “Sam?” Paul breathes out.

“Hmm?” Sam can’t tear his eyes off his ass.

“Can you fuck me before you suck me off? Please?”

Sam’s eyes fly up to his, blinking rapidly. His grip on Paul’s thighs tighten. “You got a condom? And where’s the lube? I can tell you’ve got some in there, but I wanna do more.”

The mention of the condom makes Paul’s face fall before he can catch his reaction. He wants Sam to come inside him. In fact, he desperately needs Sam to come inside him, but if that’s not something Sam wants, it’s something he has to live without.

“Hey.” Frowning, Sam releases his legs and crawls up his body planting his arms on either side of his face and staring down at him, his stiff cock rubbing across Paul’s stomach. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s the matter? If you changed your mind about me fucking you, that’s okay. We can do whatever you want. You just tell me what you wanna do and that’s what we’ll do.”

Paul presses his lips together, staring up at Sam. The idea of discussing this is nerve-wracking. Here they are—barely fifteen minutes into their renewed relationship—and once again, Paul is going to ask for a change in their sex lives that might make Sam leave. But then again, not using condoms had been a staple of their prior relationship. So this wouldn’t be anything new and it shouldn’t be scary to ask.

Nuzzling his face, Sam covers it in soft kisses. “Talk to me,” he whispers. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I promise, I won’t get upset.”

Sam’s warm weight on top of him, his familiar scent and the soft kisses all calm the anxiety in Paul’s heart. “Are condoms mandatory?” he whispers.

Paul’s monitoring Sam’s reaction very closely and Sam probably knows that. There’s no tension in Sam’s body and he keeps kissing Paul’s chin and cheeks, as if this conversation’s no big deal.

“Mandatory? No,” he mumbles against Paul’s skin. “But it’s a healthy choice…unless there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Paul lets out a snort and wraps his arms around Sam, rubbing his back. “The only person I’ve ever had sex with without a condom was you.”

Wanting to feel more of Sam’s weight on him, he wraps his legs around him and pulls Sam against him.

Sam settles against him, their hard cocks nestled next to each other, but there’s some tension in his body and Sam’s kisses get a bit harder.

Paul tenses, worried that he’d upset Sam, but Sam is quick to straighten things out. “I know I have no right, but it makes me crazy thinking about other people fucking you.”

Smiling, Paul tightens his grip on him. “Don’t get too jealous, Deacon. The only cocks I’ve had fucking me are my dildos.”

Sam sucks in a shaky breath and his hands fumble to grab Paul’s hands to slide their hands together. As Sam puts pressure on his hands, arousal runs through Paul and his eyes flutter closed as he shivers. Fuck, he’s missed this so much.

Maybe Sam’s not even aware of what he’s doing because he’s still rubbing his nose against Paul’s neck and kissing him. “You really never let anybody else fuck you?”

Paul’s starting to float a little bit in that warm haze he used to fall into. God, it’s been twenty years since he’s felt like this. Having Sam holding him down, kissing him and hating the idea of anybody else fucking Paul makes his heart soar.

“Nope. That part of me belonged to you. Nobody else,” he mumbles. “Besides, the guys down south always took one look at me and assumed I wanted to do the fucking, so I didn’t even have to argue.”

Sam’s lips curl into a smile against his neck and some of the tension leaves him, but he’s still clutching Paul’s hands and pressing his weight against him. “I can’t believe…fuck.”

Paul blinks slowly, his entire body humming with arousal and drifting pleasantly. He’d once explained to Sam that it felt like being drunk without any side-effects. “So speaking of fucking, I’m good to go. I always wore condoms when I fucked those guys. You?”

Sam’s quiet for a moment and Paul tenses, expecting to hear something he won’t like. But to his surprise, Sam pulls back and stares down at him, his eyes intense. “Me too. I never fucked anybody without a condom. That’s...I didn’t wanna do that with anybody else. It was...that was always important to me and I didn’t wanna ruin it by doing that with somebody else.”

That sends a jolt of heat through Paul and he lets out a moan, his cock twitching where it’s pressed against Sam’s. His throat tightens and he squeezes his arms around Sam’s waist. Staring up at him, he lifts his head and finds Sam’s face, gently kissing his cheek.

Sam’s still staring down at him intently, their hands clutching each other. “I need to fuck you, Crick. Please,” Sam whispers, his voice rough.

Paul nods frantically. It’s very difficult to ease up the grip of his legs around Sam, but he manages to peel them off.

Glancing around, Sam’s eyes catch on the bottle of lube that’s always sitting on the bedside table. Letting out a loud groan, Sam looks down at Paul and pushes his lower lip out, pretending to look sad. “I need the lube to come closer, but I don’t wanna let go of you.”

Paul laughs, his heart glowing. “I won’t move, I promise. Just do it really quick.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam stares down at him and bends down to kiss him hard, pressing him into the pillows and pushing down on his hands, as if he’s trying to imprint himself on Paul. It makes him want to point out that Sam’s been imprinted on him since he was five years old, but he’s distracted when Sam suddenly releases his grip on his hands and shifts off him, lunging for the bottle.

The warm haze Paul’s been floating in has a sudden cold chill sweeping through it as his hands are left bare and alone.

But Sam’s back moments later, dropping the bottle of lube next to Paul as he grabs his hands again and kisses him hard. “Fuck, that was awful,” Sam mutters against his lips.

Paul chuckles, kissing him back. “Try not doing that again, hmm?”

“I’m gonna super glue myself to you,” Sam says, nipping his lower lip and squeezing his hands as the cozy haze settles around Paul again.

During their kissing, Sam does release one of Paul’s hands, but that hand slides down Paul’s chest and squeezes his cock—making Paul gasp against his lips—before finding the plug. He twists and thrusts the plug in and out a little, making Paul’s toes curl as arousal shoots through him.

But none of it is as good as the real thing will be and Paul whines against Sam’s cheek as he gently tugs the plug out. Coating his hand with lube, Sam slides his slick fingers down Paul’s stomach and rubs over his twitching hole before two of his fingers easily slide into him.

“Oh, fuck,” Paul moans, clenching around Sam’s fingers. It feels so much better than doing it on his own…but it’s still not enough. “Do another. Please, fuck, do another and then get your cock in me.”

Sam releases a shaky breath against his face and a third finger nudges past his slick rim, stretching him. The fingers thrust slowly and they both groan at how good it feels. Thankfully, Sam seems to know that Paul’s more than ready and he clutches Paul’s hand hard as he pulls his fingers out and nudges the thick head of his cock against Paul’s hole.

Just feeling that familiar cock nudging against his rim is making Paul’s heart race and he’s shaking, his hole twitching against the head of Sam’s cock. He’s so desperate for Sam to get inside him that tears are brimming his eyes and he stares up at Sam, who’s gasping down at him, his eyes wide.

“Please…p-please…” Paul whispers.

Sam lets out a soft sound and kisses him hard as he slides into him, making Paul cry out as arousal and relief floods him. Sam’s cock is just as thick and amazing as it’s always been. Paul’s spent decades fucking himself with dildos that were similar to Sam’s cock, but none of them had the same warmth and none of them could fill that emptiness in his heart.

Their senior year in high school, they’d been changing in the locker room after a hockey game and somebody had made a comment about Sam’s dick being as short and pudgy as Sam himself was. Sam had laughed it off, but Paul could tell the comment had hurt him. Sadly, Paul couldn’t comfort him by telling him he dreamt about that very same cock fucking him almost every night. But a year later, Paul finally got to experience being fucked by Sam’s amazing cock—which was even more amazing when it was thick and hard—and he’d made sure to let him know very loudly how much he loved the shape and size of his cock, whether he was hard or soft. The smile Sam had worn the entire time had made up for the heartache of having to keep his mouth shut for so long.

Sam’s shaking above him, pressing his forehead against Paul as he makes soft sounds and starts thrusting into him, just small, gentle thrusts; his breath gusting over Paul’s face. “Crick…” he breathes out.

Paul tilts his face up and catches Sam’s lips for a kiss, wrapping his legs back around him. “Fuck me, Sam. Please.”

Kissing him hard, Sam clutches his hands and thrusts faster, settling into the fast, hard pace they’d both always loved as his thick cock brushes over Paul’s prostate on every stroke.

They’re moaning and gasping against each other’s lips, Paul’s cock twitching where it’s pressed between their stomachs. Paul can’t tell who’s shaking harder and Sam’s eyes are bright with unshed tears. It seems this is as emotional for Sam as it is for Paul.

With arousal racing through him, he floats and lets himself relax under Sam’s weight. Every thrust of Sam’s cock into him, every press of Sam’s weight against his hands, every little growl that Sam makes are sending the same message over and over again: Sam’s back and he’ll take care of Paul and he’ll love Paul and he’ll never abandon him again.

“Fuck—” Sam gasps against his lips. “—I missed this so much.”

Moaning, Paul nuzzles his face. “God, Sam. Your cock…it feels just as good as it always did. I missed it and you so damn much.”

As he’d expected, Paul watches that small smile appear on Sam’s face and his thrusts get harder, which sends harder jolts of arousal through Paul, making him cry out.

“Do you wanna come?” Sam asks him, his voice shaking. “Tell—tell me what you want.”

Just the thought of this being over makes a shiver rush through Paul and he frantically shakes his head. He wants to stay in his happy haze for the rest of time.

Sam’s staring down at him, watching him carefully as his thrusts have slowed. “Okay. We’ll do it like we used to.”

Paul grins and nods eagerly. They always liked to stretch out their fucking sessions, taking breaks in between and coming back together in any position, on any surface they wanted. They usually ended things in their favourite way: Sam coming inside or on Paul and then Sam sucking Paul off.

Seeing Paul’s agreement, Sam smiles too and slows his thrusts even more, kissing Paul’s face. He decreases the intensity of his kisses at the same pace as his cock and deliberately shifts himself so he’s not rubbing against Paul’s cock, allowing both of them to calm down.

Paul relaxes beneath him, focusing on Sam’s kisses and his warm breath covering his face as Sam’s cock gradually comes to a stop, still deep inside him. They’re both shivering from arousal, but Paul can tell Sam’s calmed down as much as he has. He’s still feeling aroused and his cock is still hard, but his arousal is just a pleasant hum, simmering beneath his skin, not a pressure cooker that’s threatening to explode.

Kissing his neck, Sam groans. “You feel so damn good.”

Clenching his ass around Sam’s cock, Paul smiles when he lets out a grunt and twitches. “I’ll never believe that anything can feel better than your cock being in me.”

Sam smiles against his neck. “Not too big, not too small, huh?”

Squeezing Sam’s hands, Paul nuzzles the side of his face. “Nope. The perfect fit. Made just for fucking me. It’s called destiny, Deacon.”

Chuckling, Sam kisses his way down Paul’s chest, lightly sucking on one of his nipples, then the other. Their nipples have never been very sensitive, but it still sends a pleasant shiver through him.

As they relax, Paul keeps clenching his ass every few minutes, just to remind himself that Sam’s cock is still inside of him and based on Sam’s resulting groans, Sam likes it as much as he does.

Eventually, Sam starts fucking him again, setting a deep, hard pace that winds them both up and sends them spiralling upwards as they cling to each other. Thankfully, Sam seems to remember how to read him like a book and he always pulls back before Paul gets to the point of no return and slows things down again.

Time loses all meaning. Sometimes Sam has to pull out to add more lube and at some point, Paul complains that he’s thirsty. That means they go out to the kitchen where Paul gets them glasses of water.

Being in the kitchen means they both realize how hungry they are and Paul makes them moose burgers. But the cooking takes a lot longer than it usually does because having Sam pressed up against his back with his hard cock leaving sticky streaks on his back keeps making Paul’s ass clench on nothing and fills him with a desperate need not to be empty. Clutching the knife he’s holding while he’s slicing a tomato, he presses back against Sam, whose arms are wrapped around him. “Sam?”

Sam nuzzles his neck. “You want me back inside you, don’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, good. Cause I wasn’t feeling right not being in there.”

Paul laughs as Sam slides right back into him and takes the knife out of Paul’s hand as he starts fucking him, pulling his hips back so he doesn’t slam into the counter. All Paul has to do is brace his hands against the counter and close his eyes as Sam fucks him.

“This—is a much better—way of cooking,” Paul breathes out, his cock throbbing. It’s a little sad that Paul’s hands are free to move around and it makes him feel strangely vulnerable and a little cold, but Sam’s cock is a wonderful heat inside of him.

Sam laughs against his neck. “We should live like this 24/7. We’d get nothing done, but we’d be happy ducks, eh?”

Chuckling, Paul clenches down on Sam’s cock and tilts his head back against Sam’s shoulder as Sam lets out a moan.

Eventually, Sam slows things down again and he pulls out but keeps his cock pressed against the crack of Paul’s ass and tightens his warms around him. They stay exactly where they are while they eat—Paul eating first with Sam holding him and nuzzling his neck and then Sam quickly wolfing down the bites of burger Paul feeds him because Sam doesn’t want to release his grip around Paul’s chest.

Then they head right back to bed—with Paul carrying a jug of water and a glass—and they go right back to fucking.

At one point, Sam says he wants a change of scenery and promptly flips Paul over onto his knees, which makes Paul shiver with excitement. While he loves seeing Sam while they fuck, this position always made him like Sam was in charge of him and that’s one of his favourite things in the world.

As soon as he’s on his knees, Paul rests his face on the sheets, spreads his knees and puts his hands on his back, waiting for Sam to tie them up like he usually does. He doesn’t even think about it—this is the position that’s always made him feel like everything’s right in the world and he can’t wait to experience it again.

But Sam isn’t sliding back into him and Paul’s hands aren’t being tied up. Sam’s cock is rubbing over the slick crack of his ass, but Sam’s hands are rubbing his hips.

“Crick…?”

Paul’s sinking deeper into the haze, his eyes closed as his heart races from anticipation. “Hmm…?”

“Do you want me to hold your hands? Like I used to?”

Opening his eyes, Paul tenses as cold reality slams through him. Shit. He’d been lost in his memories and he’d just assumed that Sam would want to do things the way they’d done twenty years ago…but what if that’s not something Sam wants to do anymore?

Maybe Sam can sense his tension, because as Paul tries to casually slide his hands off his back—shame burning in his gut—Sam grabs his wrists in an iron grip. “Stop. Answer my question. I’m happy to hold your wrists like I used to, but I wanna make sure we’re on the same page.”

Paul wants to tell Sam that yes, yes, _yes_ , he wants Sam to hold his hands. He wants Sam to tie up his hands. He wants Sam to tie up the rest of him. He wants Sam to push him down onto the mattress and order Paul not to come until he gives him permission to. He wants Sam to take back control of his body like he’s taken back control of Paul’s heart. It’s not just something Paul _wants_. It’s something he desperately _needs_. Belonging to Sam and giving him his heart and his body for safekeeping has always made him feel safe and loved in a way nothing else ever has.

But none of these words make it out of his throat. What if Sam doesn’t want to do any of that anymore? What if Sam thinks that stuff is just as disgusting as he’d thought Paul’s stupid idea from twenty years ago had been? What if Paul’s desires make Sam leave again?

Paul’s shaking, his jaw clenched as indecision keeps the words stuck in his throat and his hole clenches around nothing. The only thing keeping him from flying to pieces completely is Sam’s tight grip on his wrists. It’s an anchor; a whisper of a promise that Sam’s still willing to take care of him.

“Crick? Do you wanna stop?”

Desperately shaking his head against the mattress, Paul squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t believe that he’s being such a coward. And maybe that’ll be the reason Sam leaves again. Not because of what Paul does or doesn’t want, but because he can’t open his damn mouth to—

Abruptly, Sam releases one of his hands, but before Paul’s anxiety can turn into full-fledged panic, the thick head of Sam’s cock nudges against his loose rim and Sam’s sliding back into him, filling him back up. Moments later, Sam’s back to holding both of his wrists, pulling on them so Paul can feel the slight burn in his shoulders.

“You remember the signal if you wanna stop?” Sam asks.

At first Paul has no idea what he’s talking about, then the memory comes back. When they’d started doing things like this, they’d decided that they needed a signal if Paul wanted to stop for whatever reason. Because Paul sometimes has trouble getting his words out when he’s deep in his haze, they’d decided the safest option was for Paul to snap his fingers. No matter what Sam’s doing, he’ll always leave Paul’s hands free and he’ll be able to see or hear Paul give that signal.

“Yeah,” Paul whispers. “Finger snapping.”

Sam squeezes his wrists. “Good. You’ll use it if you need it?”

“Yeah.”

Jostling Paul’s wrists, Sam pulls back before thrusting into him hard, making Paul’s breath catch. “You promise?”

His heart’s starting to race again and Paul’s trembling. “Yeah. Promise.”

Sam’s cock shifts inside him and a soft kiss is pressed to Paul’s back. “Good.”

Without another word, Sam starts fucking him hard, pounding into him as he holds Paul’s wrists.

The tight grip Sam has on him makes it impossible for Paul to move and the last traces of his anxiety abruptly evaporate as he tumbles back into that calm, wonderful haze. His eyes slide shut and he goes limp in Sam’s grip, letting Sam use his body and take care of him.

“You’re doing so good,” Sam murmurs. “Look at you—taking my cock so good. Feels good, eh? My cock filling you up. You’ve been so desperate for it, haven’t you? Needing me to fill you up.”

Paul’s heart soars and he whines happily as a smile spreads over his face. He hasn’t heard these wonderful words in twenty years. Pride and love wash over him and he turns his face as he closes his eyes, knowing Sam likes seeing him smile when they’re doing this.

Sam sucks in a shaky breath and his thrusts get harder, his hips smacking into Paul’s ass and his grip burning around Paul’s wrists. “Fuck… you look gorgeous, you know that? Look how happy you are. You make me so damn happy.” Sam’s voice is rough and his thrusts stutter a bit, but his grip on Paul’s wrists stays firm. “So damn happy.”

Paul’s floating, his body humming with happiness.

“I’m gonna come, Crick. I’m gonna come and fill you up with my cum. You want that, don’t you? I know you do. But you’re not gonna come. You’re not gonna come until I get my mouth on that gorgeous cock of yours.”

The order not to come makes his stomach clench with joy and Paul lets out a choked sob, tensing as he waits for Sam to come inside him.

After a few more thrusts, Sam groans and Paul feels his warm cum filling him up, making him shiver and let out a soft cry. Sam giving him his cum—Sam marking him with his cum—has always made Paul feel loved in a way nothing else did.

Sam keeps holding his wrists tight and gives him every drop of his cum. When he’s done, he’s breathing hard but he doesn’t move—he stays with his cock buried deep inside Paul and doesn’t ease up on his grip on his wrists. That’s good because if Sam would abruptly pull out and let go of him right now, Paul would fall down that cold, scary cliff and that’s always terrifying. It happened a few times and it had always taken Paul ages to calm down again and Sam had always felt awful after it had happened.

Paul’s shaking like a leaf and his hole’s twitching around Sam’s cock, overwhelmed at feeling like this after so many years.

“Shh…breathe,” Sam murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. My cock’s staying where it is, my hands are staying where they are. Take deep breaths and relax.”

Gradually, Paul’s racing heart manages to calm down. He hasn’t noticed his throbbing cock for a while because of everything else, but as he calms, he feels the burn of arousal in his gut. Orgasms have never been the top priority for him when having sex with Sam. Orgasms are nice but floating in his safe, warm haze was always the highlight. Taking a deep breath, he melts into the mattress and blinks.

“Good boy. That’s my good boy. I’m gonna slowly let go of your hands and I’m gonna pull out, okay? But I’m not going anywhere. I’m just gonna flip you over so I can get to that gorgeous cock cause my mouth has been watering for ages. But I promise, I’ll hold you down while I’m sucking you.”

“Okay,” Paul mumbles against the sheets. He braces himself, but Sam pulls out so slowly and releases his grip on his hands so gradually that he barely feels them leave until it’s already happened. Before he can focus on no longer being restrained or filled up, Sam’s flipping him over and settling between his legs.

One of Sam’s arms presses down against his hips, making Paul moan, while Sam’s other hand fists Paul’s aching cock. “Mmm…been waiting for this all week,” Sam mutters.

Paul glances down just in time to see Sam wrap his lips around his cock and slide down, enveloping his cock in moist heat that makes Paul let out a gasp as his legs tense. But his legs don’t have a chance of going anywhere because Sam lifts off his cock and shifts over so he’s lying on top of one of Paul’s legs and the hand squeezing the base of his cock lifts off to press down on his other leg.

Having Sam holding down his legs and his hips while his lips are wrapped around his cock makes Paul sink right back into his warm, happy place. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a mumbled curse as Sam’s tongue rubs the thick vein running up his cock.

Paul can’t do anything but lie there and let Sam do whatever he wants. He can’t thrust his hips, he can’t control Sam’s mouth on his cock, he can’t do anything but let Sam use his body and that sends an intense shiver of happiness through him, making him smile.

Sam’s lips slide up and down his cock and Sam moans from time to time, the sound vibrating through Paul’s cock, which sends intense jolts of arousal through him. As always, Sam takes his time. He loves suckling just on the head, licking the leaking slit before sliding up and down, his lips a tight seal. Sometimes he’ll shift and let Paul’s cock slide into the tighter heat of his throat, swallowing around him with his chin brushing Paul’s balls, a combination that never fails to send sparks of arousal through him while he gasps and whimpers happily.

Paul can’t stop smiling, feeling amazing from head to toe. When he can keep his eyes open, he often looks down at Sam to see his face. Sometimes Sam’s looking at him, his eyes shining. Other times, Sam’s eyes are closed in bliss, his chin covered in spit and his slick lips stretched around Paul’s cock.

Whenever Paul gets close, he doesn’t have to do anything because Sam can tell and he’ll back off, pulling off to lick slow stripes up his cock or gently kiss his balls. When Paul’s calmed down, Sam will get right back to it and take him back into his mouth.

Finally, Sam pulls off and rubs his stomach with the hand that’s been pressed against his hips the entire time, keeping him still. “I want you to come now. Gimme every drop of your cum.”

Gasping out an “Okay”, Paul closes his eyes and when Sam swallows him down again and sucks hard, Paul lets his orgasm slam through him, his body tensing as he comes into Sam’s mouth.

Sam moans happily and Paul looks down as Sam slides up and down his cock, cum dribbling out of the corner of his mouth and adding to the mess on his chin. Sam coaxes every spurt of cum out of him that Paul can give him until he finally pulls off, licking his cock clean and lifting his arm from Paul’s hips so he can hold Paul’s cock and lick every last drop of cum from his sensitive slit, which always feels so damn intense that it punches a long groan out of Paul.

Grinning, Sam releases him and crawls up his body, grabbing Paul’s hands as he goes and tangling their hands together as he presses them up above Paul’s head.

“That was amazing,” Sam mutters, his eyes shining and his face covered in spit and cum.

Paul grins, relaxing under Sam’s weight as Sam stretches out on top of him, weighing him down. Nuzzling Paul’s face with his nose, Sam kisses his neck before catching his lips and kissing him hard, sliding his cum covered tongue into his mouth. Moaning, Paul opens his mouth and eagerly tangles his tongue with Sam.

When Sam’s kisses lose their enthusiasm, Paul can tell he’s tired. Pulling back after one last lingering kiss, Paul brushes their noses together. “Let’s get some sleep. The faster we go to sleep, the sooner we can wake up and get back to our natural state of being.”

Sam chuckles. “Fucking? Me sucking your cock?”

Paul grins. “All of the above.”

Not wanting to put any pressure on Sam, Paul waits to see what he’ll do for sleeping arrangements. Releasing Paul’s hands, Sam climbs off him and drinks a glass of water. Once he’s drained two glasses, he refills the glass and holds it out for Paul, who eagerly grabs it and drains the water as Sam goes to wash his face and turn out the lights. When Paul’s putting the empty glass back on the bedside table, Sam’s climbing back on the bed and reaching down to pull the covers up. As Sam settles down next to him, Paul turns onto his side and discreetly shifts back until he’s closer to Sam. Holding his breath, he waits to see what Sam will do.

To his relief, Sam lets out a deep breath and slides right up against him, tangling their legs together as his chest presses against Paul’s back. Kissing his neck, Sam rubs his nose against his skin as he pulls the blanket up over them and wraps a careful arm around Paul’s waist. “This okay? I don’t mind sleeping separate. I want you to be comfortable, so you gotta tell me.”

Paul lets out a shaky breath. The words are stuck in his throat again, so he just pulls harder on Sam’s arm to get it tighter against his chest.

What would make this perfect is if Sam would be willing to hold his cock while they sleep, but he doesn’t want to push things. It always made him feel so good in the past and he hadn’t thought to question that strange desire of his until everything had fallen apart. With the benefit of thinking more clearly, he’d acknowledged years ago that wanting Sam to hold his cock while they sleep was very weird and completely unnecessary, no matter how it made Paul feel.

Sam wraps his arm tightly against Paul’s chest, but he feels tense. Kissing Paul’s neck, Sam is still for a few minutes as he rubs his chest.

“If you’re happy like this, that’s good,” Sam murmurs against his neck. “But if you want me to hold your cock, all you gotta do is say so.”

Paul freezes and stares at the far wall, shaking. Half of him desperately wants to beg Sam to hold his cock, but the other half is paralyzed by the fear that Sam will change his mind, decide it’s weird and leave.

Sam waits, but when Paul can’t do anything but lie there, paralyzed and clenching his jaw, Sam leans over him and kisses him hard on the cheek before settling against him again. His hand slides off Paul’s chest and Paul’s barely breathing as he waits.

Sam presses closer to him, his soft cock nestled in the crack of Paul’s ass and rubbing against his hole. Paul’s still loose and Sam’s cock slides against the lube and cum that’s smeared all over it. Paul lets out a shaky breath at Sam’s cock being pressed up against his hole. That always sends such a fierce shiver of heat through him. Without any words, Sam is letting Paul and the rest of the world know that his hole belongs to Sam and only Sam’s cock is allowed near it.

It feels so good that Paul’s taken by surprise when Sam’s hand slides down his chest and wraps around his soft cock. His grip isn’t firm, but just having Sam holding his cock like this with Sam’s cock pressed against his ass makes Paul’s breath catch and he’s shaking.

Nuzzling Paul’s neck with his nose, Sam covers his neck in soft kisses. “You okay? If it’s too much, we can try something else.”

Paul frantically shakes his head. “Please,” he whispers, tears brimming his eyes at how overwhelmed he feels. “Please, please, please.”

He knows that doesn’t make sense, but luckily, Sam understands him. Letting out a shaky breath, Sam kisses him harder and his grip on Paul’s cock tightens a little. “I’m not going anywhere. Never again, I promise.”

Closing his eyes, Paul keeps shaking and struggling to breathe for a long while, his heart glowing with happiness. Having Sam touching him like this fills him with relief and peace. He can finally let go and relax. Sam will keep him safe. Not just his heart, but his body too. Sam has control over both of them and that’s how life should always be.

Sam keeps murmuring reassurances to him, kissing his neck and reminding him that he’s not going anywhere. It takes a long time for Paul to calm down and sink into sleep, but with Sam’s warm hand wrapped around his cock and Sam’s strong body pressed up against his and his cock right against Paul’s ass, he finally drifts off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s the best sleep he’s had in twenty years. When he wakes up, he couldn’t care less that he’s sweating and there’s itchy, dry cum on his ass. All that matters is that Sam’s solid warmth is pressed all along his back and Sam’s hand is still loosely wrapped around his cock as Sam snores into the pillow behind him; his breath warming the back of Paul’s neck.

Paul can’t stop smiling and he wants to stay here forever. Closing his eyes, he dozes off again, listening to Sam’s familiar snoring.

The next time he wakes up, it’s when Sam’s rolling him onto his back and settling between his legs, which makes Paul smile with anticipation. Paul doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he sprawls out and Sam kisses his way down his chest and his stomach as his hand strokes Paul’s cock, slowly waking it up.

“Crick?” Sam murmurs against his skin.

“Hmm?”

“I wanna suck your cock for a bit. It’s been a few hours since I had it in my mouth and that’s not the way things should be. Then I wanna fuck you for a while but we’re not gonna come. Then I wanna make you breakfast and then I’m gonna fuck you some more.” Leisurely squeezing Paul’s cock and making him gasp, Sam kisses his stomach. “I can’t decide if I wanna fuck you against the counter or the table, but I’ll make up my mind later. Or maybe I wanna fuck you in the shower too? I don’t know yet. You okay with all that?”

Paul laughs and stares down at Sam, who’s rubbing his thumb against his rapidly stiffening cock, sending shivers through him. “I’m all yours.”

Sam’s hand slows and he stares at Paul very intensely for a while, before he shifts and abruptly presses his arm across Paul’s hips and slides his cock into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh…oh, fuck,” Paul gasps out, his eyes sliding shut as Sam does whatever he wants to do and makes Paul the happiest man on earth.

* * *

As much as Paul wants to spend the entire day in bed with Sam, he still has a job to do. After eating breakfast, having a shower and having plenty more sex, he tells Sam he needs to go down to the shop and get some work done. “Leah’s doing the morning shift at the store, but I gotta get a truck cab’s transmission done today.”

Sam smiles as he dries one of the plates that Paul finished washing. “Okay. You want me to hang out here or can I come down to the shop?”

And that’s the big question, isn’t it? He’s never discussed his personal life with Leah or anybody else, since he’s never had one. But he doesn’t want to keep Sam hidden away. On the other hand, does he really want to be known as ‘the gay guy in Wiley’? And what about Sam’s own thoughts? As he washes one of their forks, Paul stares down into the sink. “Do you _wanna_ come down to the shop with me?”

Sam shrugs and leans against the counter. His body language mostly seems relaxed, but he’s clutching the dish towel way too hard. “It’s up to you.”

Rinsing the fork, Paul hands it to him. “No, it’s up to both of us. I’ve never—I don’t talk to people around here about my personal life.”

“They’re gonna notice if I keep parking my truck out front. We can do what we did before and just keep denying it but they’re gonna get suspicious.”

That’s true. Paul knows Leah would have noticed Sam’s truck the second she’d pulled in today and she would have also noticed that Paul’s been taking his sweet time coming down to work this morning. Hiding Sam’s presence won’t work, so that just leaves their usual plan: deny and distract. Paul’s first instinct is to make up excuses that they can use—but the second he starts thinking about that, he realizes he doesn’t want to. He’s too old to be making up bullshit to make other people comfortable. “I don’t wanna lie. If you do, then I’ll do it.”

Sam’s fiddling with the fork. “I don’t wanna lie either. I’m tired of lying. If people don’t like the truth, fuck ‘em.”

Turning off the water, Paul leans against the counter. “Then I think we’re both on the same page.”

Glancing sideways at Sam, Paul sees a small smile on his face and Sam’s grip on the fork and towel relaxes. “Okay. So I can come down to the shop?”

“Yup. If anybody asks who you are, let me handle it.”

“Okay.”

* * *

When they get down to the shop, Paul heads right for the truck cab he’d been working on with Sam trailing after him, but before he’s even climbed up on the ladder, he spies Leah walking in.

“Morning, Paul.”

Hastily stepping back from the ladder, he heads towards Leah, putting a smile on his face as he goes. “Hey, Leah. How are you?”

She’s giving him her ‘customer service smile’ and her eyes are glued to Sam, who’s still by the truck cab. “Fine, how are you?”

“Great, thanks.” It’s still so instinctual to try and distract her with other questions or make up some stupid excuse about who Sam is, but he swallows all those words. He’s too old for that crap and Leah’s opinion has no impact on his life.

Leah tears her eyes off Sam long enough to stare at him. “Are you gonna do his paperwork?”

They both know Leah doesn’t really believe Sam’s a customer, but she’s letting Paul know that she won’t just ignore Sam’s presence.

Clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath, Paul decides to just get this over with. He doesn’t owe Leah or anybody else his silence or his lies. “He’s not a customer.”

Leah’s eyebrows rise and she transfers her stare to Paul. “Oh?”

“Yep. You don’t have to worry about any paperwork.”

“Is he…gonna be around for a while?”

Not letting himself chicken out and glance away, Paul keeps his eyes on her. “Yep. Well, on and off. He lives in Gibson but he’s gonna be around here quite a bit.”

They stare at each other and Paul really can’t read her expression, but if she’s waiting for him to elaborate, then she’s out of luck. If she wants specific answers, she can ask specific questions. He’s not going to do the work for her when he’s already feeling uncomfortable.

When Leah sees that Paul isn’t going to give her anything else, she steps around him and heads towards Sam.

Taking another deep breath, Paul turns around and watches Sam walk towards her, smiling politely and holding out his hand. “Hi!”

“Hi, there. I’m Leah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Leah. You work here with Paul?”

They shake hands and Paul can tell that Leah’s grip is a lot stronger than she usually makes it. “We both own this place. And you are?”

“Sam Deacon.”

“You up here working for the winter?”

Paul sighs softly. Leah’s still fishing for any little nugget of information she can find. Asking a question that makes the assumption that Sam’s not a local will prompt him to correct her, which is exactly what happens.

“No, ma’am. I live in Gibson.”

“Ah. How long have you been up here?”

Sam smiles. “Born and raised in Gibson. I moved down south for a few years, but I came back up.”

Leah’s smile becomes more genuine, as it always does when somebody expresses having a permanent attachment to the area. The throngs of workers from the south who flood the region during drilling season helps pay their bills, but those guys don’t have the same attachment and respect for the land as the locals do. “The north called you back, eh?”

Chuckling, Sam nods. “Yes, ma’am. Must be something in the water.”

Leah laughs softly, but she’s still giving Sam a hard look. “If you’re gonna be around Wiley for a while, you should get a room at the Moose Head. This is their busy time, but they might have room. It’ll be more comfortable than camping out on Paul’s couch.”

Paul’s breath catches and he clenches his fist, the need to deny and distract becoming even stronger. This is it. Sam’s answer to this question will finally confirm Leah’s suspicions and there won’t be coming back from it.

“I know the Moose Head, ma’am. The place hasn’t been the same since Ed sold it, but it’s still a decent place to stay. When Paul gets tired of me, I’ll head over there.”

Sam’s neatly side-stepped the question about the couch and Paul knows he did that to give Paul one last chance to change his mind. Then he thinks about how stressful this entire conversation has already been and he doesn’t want to go back to living like this. He’s too damn old and he doesn’t owe Leah or anybody else anything.

Sauntering up to Leah and Sam as casually as he can, Paul sticks his hands into his pockets and pastes a friendly smile on his face. “Sam’s not on my couch, so he’ll be fine.”

Leah stares at him. Her smile is a bit strained and her jaw shifts. “Is that so?”

Paul keeps his gaze even. “Yeah. He’s not on my couch and when I’m staying with him in Gibson, I won’t be on his couch either. So you don’t have to worry about our sleeping arrangements. We’re both sleeping exactly where we wanna be sleeping and we’re both very comfortable.”

She blinks, giving the first sign that she’s surprised by Paul’s attitude.

Keeping his breathing even, Paul keeps staring at her, his trembling hands still shoved deep in his pockets. If she asks any other personal questions, he’ll turn the tables on her and point out that he’s never asked her about her sleeping arrangements with her husband and these things aren’t anybody’s business except the people directly involved in those sleeping arrangements.

But maybe Leah reaches the same conclusion and when Paul stays silent, she eventually pastes her customer service smile back on her face and turns back to Sam. “It’s good to meet you, Sam. I’ll be seeing you around.”

Nodding, Sam smiles politely. “Yes, ma’am.”

Turning, Leah heads out of the shop and that’s when Paul can finally breathe again. His heart races and he feels light-headed as all of his bravado quickly deserts him. He’s saved from falling over when Sam tugs one of his hands out of his pocket and wraps his hand around his wrist, squeezing tight.

Staring down at Sam tightly holding onto his wrist makes Paul’s anxieties fade again and after another minute, he gives Sam a smile. “You gonna help me with the transmission?”

Sam grins and gently releases his wrist. “Sure.”

* * *

The rest of their day passes relatively uneventfully. After getting everything done in the shop that needs to be done, they head upstairs and eat lunch before heading down to the store to put in a few hours after Leah’s driven home. Sam relaxes in the backroom while Paul’s helping customers or helps Paul re-stock the shelves when it’s quiet.

It’s exactly like old times. No matter how much time they spent together, they never got tired of each and never ran out of things to talk about. Now that they have 20 years of stories to catch up on, it’s a struggle to focus on customers instead of continuing their conversations. The day flies by and Paul can’t stop smiling for most of it, feeling happier and more settled than he has in years.

After closing up the store and locking the pumps, they head back home and have another night of sex, eating and falling asleep curled together, with Sam pressed up against Paul and holding his cock.

* * *

Sam still can’t believe how his life has changed in the last few weeks. He has Paul back in his life, they’ve picked up where they’d left off and it feels as amazing as it did twenty years ago.

But it’s clear that Paul’s still deeply hurt by Sam leaving him. Despite Paul having been so adamant that they both need to communicate with each other, he still seems to fear Sam’s reaction to him bringing up sex-related topics and he can’t seem to get the words out. It had happened multiple times already: the discussion about condoms and Paul’s desire for Sam to hold his wrists during sex or his cock while they’re sleeping. Every time, it was clear that Paul desperately wanted to talk about those things, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out until Sam had coaxed them out of him.

And it’s no mystery why Paul’s anxious about bringing up these things. After the way Sam had reacted on that horrible day, Paul might know that talking to him is important but he still fears how Sam will react, and that’s keeping the words frozen in his throat.

It’s making Sam feel guilty as hell. Paul had always been the quieter of the two of them and while Paul’s never had trouble talking Sam’s ear off, he’d often relied on Sam to voice his thoughts for him. It’s something Sam had always been happy to do for him, but that only works if Sam knows what’s going on in Paul’s head. And because it’s been twenty years, Sam doesn’t trust that he can read Paul’s mind as well as he used to.

Hell—he hadn’t ever suspected that Paul was thinking about the…unique activity that he’d randomly brought up on the day when Sam had destroyed everything. Maybe that’s why it had come as such a shock. He hadn’t been accustomed to not being on the same page as Paul and maybe that had concerned him and that concern had come out as anger?

In any case, Paul’s fears are understandable and it’s something Sam has to help with. Not only does he want to help, but he’s responsible for Paul’s fears in the first place. But understanding Paul’s thoughts when they’re locked in his head isn’t just something Sam needs to do—he _wants_ to do it.

Being able to make Paul’s fantasies become a reality and letting him have experiences that he didn’t trust anybody else to give him has always given Sam a big rush. It’s one of the things he’d always loved about being a dom. But figuring out Paul’s fantasies when they’ve been separated for twenty years is an impossible task and it’s not something Sam wants to get wrong. Clearly, Paul’s fears won’t allow him to bring things up, so Sam will step up and help him, just like he had during their discussions about condoms or having Sam hold his wrists or cock.

The issue isn’t just restricted to any future fantasies Paul might have. Sam had grabbed Paul’s hands and held him down out of pure instinct when they’d started having sex, but he’d been kicking himself afterwards. Just because Paul had enjoyed doing those things in the past doesn’t mean Sam should have made assumptions. It’s been twenty years since they were at the stage where they both trusted Sam to make decisions about their sex lives without consulting Paul.

Just because Paul had enjoyed having his hands held down or having Sam hold his wrists behind his back doesn’t mean that Paul wants to engage in all the same submissive behaviour that he’d enjoyed when he was younger. Sam had crossed a line when he’d held Paul down like that without talking to him about it first. Even worse, Sam had noticed Paul slipping into subspace after he’d done it and that makes Sam’s actions worse.

If Paul wants Sam to be his dom again, they need to discuss that and come to a clear understanding. If Paul doesn’t want that kind of a relationship, they need to set clear boundaries. In any case, they need to talk about it. And because Sam knows Paul won’t ever bring it up, he’ll have to do it. Paul will probably get upset and scared when Sam tells him that they need to talk about something important, but Sam will do his best to take care of him.

No matter what, he’ll never fuck things up the way he did the last time. This time, he’s going to do a much better job being Paul’s dom. But first, he needs to find out if that’s a role Paul will even allow him to have again.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, it’s time for Paul’s weekly shopping trip to Gibson. He could push it off, but Sam tells him that he’ll drive them, since he wants to stop by his apartment anyway and get some things he’ll need before his next 2 week shift starts.

They decide to use Sam’s truck and Paul pokes his head into the store to tell Leah that he’ll be back either tonight or tomorrow morning. Not waiting for a response or to study her reaction, Paul hurries through the new dusting of snow that had fallen over night and climbs into Sam’s truck. Knowing Leah’s staring at them intently through the window, Paul deliberately looks out through the windshield, studying the empty highway and relaxing in the heat blasting out of the heaters while Sam pulls onto the highway and heads towards Gibson.

Paul settles into his seat, watching the snow-covered trees fly by as the endless highway snakes along in front of them, the cold breeze from Sam’s partially open window mingling with the heat coming from the vents.

Sam’s fiddling with the radio controls on his steering wheel and he settles on a country music station, which makes Paul smile. Within seconds, Sam taps the steering wheel with his fingers, keeping time with the music and humming along before he’s asking: “So where do you wanna go shopping?”

Paul opens his mouth to reply, when he sees a dark shape on the side of the road, standing out against the deep snow drift. As they come closer, it forms into a recognizable shape. “Deer,” he says, pointing.

Sam nods and slows down as they get closer. “I see it.”

The tall, thin animal stays frozen as they come closer, it’s ears twitching. Thankfully, it stays where it is as they pass by and doesn’t attempt to run across the highway. Once they’re a safe distance from it and aren’t in danger of becoming part of a mangled deer, truck and human ball, Sam speeds up again.

“Ryerson’s,” Paul says, answering Sam’s earlier question.

“Okay.”

They settle into a comfortable silence for a while, until Sam abruptly turns down the volume of the radio and shifts in his seat. “Crick?”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to talk about something important.”

Frowning, Paul tries to quell the sudden panic that’s making his heart race. “Okay…”

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. But I think we gotta be on the same page when it comes to some…sex related things. I thought it would be easier to talk about these things when we’re not near a bed cause we have a tendency to get distracted when we’re around one of those. Really, we have trouble around any piece of furniture, but we should be okay in the truck, eh?”

Paul can tell Sam’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not helping his panic. Blinking hard, Paul clenches his jaw, his mind flashing back to that horrible phone call they had after Sam had left.

“ _I don’t think this is gonna work out, Becker. We’re young and having fun like this is great, but it’s time for me to get serious and find somebody who’s right for me. You’re a great person, but I think it’s time we move on.”_

Sam swears under his breath and reaches over to grab Paul’s wrist, squeezing hard. “Calm down. I’m not leaving and I’m not about to drop a bombshell on you, I promise. I just wanna talk about some specifics. I think we’re on the same page, but I wanna make sure.”

Sam’s grip on his wrist is helping somewhat, but Paul still can’t soothe the panic that’s clutching his heart.

Thankfully, Sam keeps hold of his wrist as they continue driving for a while, until Sam’s turning down an abandoned access road. The road hasn’t been plowed and Sam releases Paul’s wrist so he can hold the steering wheel with both hands as the truck slowly plows through the nearly thigh-deep snow; the vehicle swaying back and forth.

Going down this old road is strange enough that some of Paul’s panic fades. “Why the hell are we going down Blueberry? You know there’s nothing down here except those two old wells,” he mumbles.

He knows that’s true because he and Sam had been part of the crew that had drilled both of these wells, decades ago. Unfortunately, the wells had both been dry and the oil company hasn’t gotten around to doing the reclamation work on the old wellsites or the road in the decades since then. But that’s not the point.

“Because I don’t wanna wait another fifteen minutes until we get to the Green Lake pull-out and I don’t wanna have this conversation while I’m driving.”

Paul waits, staring numbly out at the snow-covered landscape, his jaw clenched with panic. The snow isn’t a good enough distraction and Paul transfers his gaze into the truck. But he can’t look at Sam and he can’t look at the big bundle of keys that are bouncing around as they hang from the ignition. As he looks lower, his eyes catch on a bunch of pens and other crap filling one of Sam’s drink holder cups.

One of the pens is a black permanent marker.

Seeing it fills Paul with even more emotion. They hadn’t even discussed using the markers the way used to, and now maybe they never will. Why the hell did he jump back in so fast?! He’s such an idiot!

Once Sam has driven far enough from the highway that people can’t see them and they won’t be distracted by anybody stopping to ask if they need help, he stops the truck. “I wanna talk about what kind of sex we wanna be having.”

Blinking, Paul frowns, some of his panic fading. “I wanna have the kind of sex we’ve been having. I’ve been having a great time, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Sam chuckles. “No, I know that. I’m talking about some of the little things. Like me holding you down and telling you when you’re allowed to come.”

A cold shudder runs down Paul’s back. It’s happening again. Sam’s decided that Paul likes weird things and he doesn’t want any part of it and Sam’s going to leave him again and—

Abruptly, his wrist is grabbed in a tight grip. “Crick, stop. Look at me.”

Despite his panic, having Sam holding his wrist and giving him an order in that firm voice makes a pleasant shudder run through him. But he still can’t look at Sam, despite Sam having told him to.

Sam unclicks his seatbelt and shifts on his seat. Paul’s seatbelt is being undone and he’s being pulled sideways by his wrist until his face is pressed against Sam’s chest. One of Sam’s hands keeps a tight grip on his wrist and the other curls over the back of his head, keeping Paul pressed firmly against him.

With his nose mashed against Sam’s jacket, Paul breathes in Sam’s scent. Together with the strong grip Sam has on him, his panic loses some of its intensity. Sam wouldn’t be holding him like this if he were about to leave him. He’d be trying to put more distance between them, not less.

“I love all those things,” Sam whispers in his ear. “I love holding you down and telling you when you’re allowed to come. I wanna do all those things. I wanna do everything we used to do.”

Paul’s breath catches and a jolt of arousal rushes through him. Sam’s words are the exact opposite of what he thought they would be and they’re even better than he ever imagined. Maybe Sam felt his shudder because he tightens his grip on his wrist and the back of his head even more, letting Paul know that Sam’s in control.

“I wanna hold you down and come on your face like I’ve done a thousand times before,” he whispers, his voice rough. “I wanna tie your hands behind your back and have you kneel in front of me while I’m feeding you. I wanna tie you up so you can’t move and I can take my time making you feel good. I wanna spend hours fucking you and not letting you come until I decide you’re allowed to and see you smiling at me, so happy that I’m in charge.”

Shaking and his cock stiffening, Paul whimpers.

“I wanna do all the things we used to do and so much more. I loved being in charge of our sex lives and I’d be so damn happy if you let me do that again, but I gotta know you want that too. I need to know what you want, Crick. It’s fine if you don’t wanna do things the same way, but you gotta talk to me.”

Paul takes a shaky breath. “I want…I want all that too.”

Sam kisses the side of his head. “That’s good. But I gotta know exactly what you want. If there’s anything you don’t wanna do, you gotta let me know. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Closing his eyes, Paul keeps his face pressed against Sam’s jacket. Having Sam holding him like this and hearing him saying he wants to do all the things they used to do makes him feel brave enough to finally say more than a few words. “I wanna do everything we used to do. The same way we used to do it. I love it when you’re in charge. I’ve missed all of that so damn much and I want that all back,” he whispers.

Sam’s breath catches and his grip on Paul’s wrist tightens even more. “I want that too.” His voice is shaky and he’s breathing hard.

Paul could happily stay right where he is for the rest of his life, but Sam’s shaking and he seems to be battling with some intense emotions too. Sam’s quiet for a long moment, clinging to Paul as if he’s afraid Paul’s going to pull away and leave.

Finally, Sam finds his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he chokes out.

Paul knows he’s not apologizing for anything that’s happened today. This apology is coming from a twenty year old pain that’s haunted both of them for the last two decades. Hearing Sam’s broken voice makes all those emotions rush back for Paul—but before they can overwhelm him, he lifts his head, pulling back against Sam’s hand. Sam rarely gets emotional but when he does, Paul’s always found some hidden strength within himself to take care of him.

Sam lets him go but keeps a tight hold on his wrist, which Paul appreciates.

Staring at him, Paul takes in Sam’s face, pain etching deep lines in his skin and his eyes bright with unshed tears. Their mistakes from twenty years ago may stay with them for the rest of their lives, but Paul doesn’t want those mistakes to keep haunting them. He wants to move on. But he knows Sam will never allow himself to move on unless Paul asks him to. Leaning forward, Paul kisses him softly on the lips. Sam lets out a shaky breath and doesn’t respond until Paul keeps gently kissing him. Finally, Sam’s lips carefully press back, but he’s being too timid.

Pulling back, Paul gives him a hard look. “We’re gonna have a problem, Deacon.”

Sam blinks and frowns at him.

Paul explains. “I already forgave you for what happened but you haven’t forgiven yourself and that’s not gonna work. I don’t want you here if you’re just trying to make up for past wrongs.”

Sighing, Sam clenches his jaw. “I don’t know how to forgive myself.”

“How about if I ask you to?”

Sam’s face crumbles and he looks like he’s on the verge of crying. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I sure as hell don’t deserve to forgive myself.”

Paul’s had enough of this. He’s not going to allow Sam to keep punishing himself for one mistake from twenty years ago. That’s no way to live. Lifting his free hand to Sam’s face, Paul rubs his cheek and slides his hand around to squeeze the back of his neck. “We both fucked up. Yeah, you fucked up more than me and yeah, it sucked. But we can’t move forward if we’re gonna stay stuck in the past. You can either stay back there and keep punishing yourself or you can come with me and we’ll move forward together. But I’m not gonna stay stuck in the past with you and let you use me to keep punishing yourself.”

Sam takes a shaky breath. “What the hell do you want me to do?! We can’t just pretend that I didn’t fuck up. We lost twenty damn years that we’re never gonna get back.”

“I know, but we gotta forget about that and move on or we’re gonna waste the next twenty years too.”

That makes Sam fall silent for a while, his gaze staring down at his hand holding Paul’s wrist. Eventually, he finds his voice again. “So we just…move on?”

Paul smiles softly. “That’s what I want, yeah.”

Studying his face intently, Sam looks so damn hopeful, but also scared. Like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do what Paul’s suggestion he do. “I don’t know if I can.”

And that’s the real problem. He knows Sam can do it, but he probably doesn’t know how to start. There’s that little voice in Sam’s head, screaming that he doesn’t deserve Paul’s forgiveness and that he should spend the rest of his life drowning in guilt.

Luckily, Paul has known how to keep Sam happily distracted for a very long time. He briefly considers just kissing him or asking Sam to suck his cock but not let him come until they get to Gibson…but his eyes land on the permanent marker in the cup holder and he realizes that would be even better. Not only could Paul see if Sam really was serious about wanting to return to their old dynamic, but they would both get something they’ve craved for twenty years.

Reaching out his free hand, he picks up the marker. Sam sucks in a sharp breath and his grip on Paul’s wrist tightens almost the point of being painful. Holding up the marker between them, Paul stares at Sam. “I want you to take care of me the way you used to. But I don’t want you doing it because you feel guilty. I want you taking care of me because you want to.”

Sam stares at him, his eyes going back and forth between the marker and Paul’s eyes. “You’d let me mark you the way I used to?”

A shiver of intense want rushes through Paul at those words, but he can’t get too excited right now. He needs to stay in control until Sam’s ready to take control back—for both of them. “Yeah,” he whispers. “But I want you to do it cause you want to.”

Sam’s eyes are huge. “I do. I really do.”

“You wanna take care of me like you used to?”

Nodding frantically, Sam’s clutching his wrist like his life depends on it. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready to do that now? If you need more time, that’s fine.”

But Sam’s frantic head nodding turns to head shaking. “I can do it. If you let me, I can do it. I want to.”

Paul smiles. “Then take the damn marker and do it already.”

Sam blinks at him and for a second, they’re both frozen. Then Sam plucks the marker from Paul’s hand and from one second to the next, heat flares in Sam’s eyes and he releases Paul’s wrist and grabs his face, kissing him hard. Paul whimpers and lets his lips slide apart as Sam’s tongue slides between them, roughly claiming his mouth. It’s as if Sam’s trying to remind his mouth who it belongs to and Paul shivers and lets himself go limp in Sam’s grasp.

Eventually, Sam pulls back, breathing hard and staring at him with heat still sparking in his eyes, all traces of uncertainty gone. Putting his hands on Paul’s chest, he shoves him against his seat, holding him pressed against it and making heat run through Paul as he lets out a soft gasp.

Putting the marker on the dashboard, Sam frantically yanks Paul’s jacket open and shoves it partially off his shoulders to expose his front. Shoving up Paul’s sweater, Sam pulls his shirt out of his jeans and yanks it up to expose his soft stomach.

Paul’s hands are limp, staring down at Sam’s hands as they finish pulling every scrap of clothes away from his stomach, his hands shaking with the same desperation that’s making Paul’s heart race.

Sam lets out a growl as he stares at Paul’s pale skin. “We can’t have you running around without my name written on you, can we? How the hell is the world supposed to know that you belong to me, huh? That’s not right.”

Paul’s shaking like a leaf, grinning. He can’t believe he gets to have this back. Sam’s gonna mark him. Sam’s gonna take control of him and declare that Paul’s body belongs to him. It’s so exciting and overwhelming that tears well up in Paul’s eyes and he can’t stop smiling.

Sam rubs his hands over the soft rolls of Paul’s stomach, the touch so familiar that Paul lets out a whine.

Bending down, Sam kisses his stomach, pressing hard against his soft skin as his hand slides down to cup Paul’s cock through his pants. Paul’s already half-hard but the moment Sam presses his hand firmly against his cock, Paul groans and parts his legs as much as he can, shifting his hips up to keep Sam’s hand on his cock.

Sam sucks in a shaky breath and tightens his grip on his cock, squeezing it and sending shots of intense heat through him as Sam nuzzles his stomach. Paul reaches out without thinking, wanting to press Sam’s head and hand closer to him to make sure they never leave. But before he can touch him, Sam’s lifting his head with a growl.

“Where are those hands going, Crick? Huh? You don’t need your damn hands when I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you and you don’t have to do a damn thing.”

Smiling and relief flooding through him, Paul slumps against his seat, letting his hands fall as Sam massages his aching cock and kisses his stomach again.

Abruptly, Sam pulls back, leaving his cock and stomach bare and cold and making Paul let out a fearful whine.

Sam grabs his chin and makes Paul look at him. “Stop worrying, I’m not going anywhere ever again. You trust me?”

Paul’s nodding immediately. But despite part of him trusting Sam, there’s a small part of him that’s still anxious. Because he _had_ trusted Sam before and Sam had routinely promised to never leave him…but he did. It seems that no matter how eager he is to put those twenty years of pain behind them, that’s easier said than done.

Maybe Sam can see Paul’s conflicting emotions, because his jaw clenches before he’s reaching for Paul’s jeans and undoing the belt, buttons and zipper. Reaching inside his underwear, Sam pulls his cock free, wrapping his hand tightly around the hard length and making Paul cry out at the jolt of heat that races through him.

“That’s better, eh? We should live like this twenty-four hours a day. Me not holding your cock should be a crime,” Sam murmurs, rubbing his thumb hard against the slit and making Paul’s toes curl as he moans and stares down at Sam’s thumb massaging the head of his cock. Slowly, that anxiety fades and Paul slumps back against his seat with a soft sigh as his arousal continues to shiver through him.

Keeping his hand on Paul’s cock, Sam shifts in his seat and struggles to undo his belt. Doing it one-handed isn’t an easy task and it occurs to Paul that this was probably the reason Sam had let go of him, but he really appreciates that Sam notices his panic and went back to holding his cock, even if he has to struggle with his belt a bit.

Jesus, he loves this man so damn much.

Paul sits there and watches Sam, floating in his happy haze and alternating looking at Sam taking off his belt and watching Sam’s thick hand holding his cock.

Once Sam has his belt off, he grabs Paul’s chin again. “Crick, I wanna tie your hands behind your back with my belt. I’m gonna let go of your cock to do it, but after that, I promise I’m gonna hold it again and mark you properly. But you don’t need your hands for any of that, so I’m gonna get them nicely wrapped up so they’re out of the way.”

A big smile spreads over Paul’s face and his heart glows as he nods. “Okay,” he whispers.

Sam smiles and leans over to kiss him softly. “Bend forward.”

Gently releasing his cock, Sam waits for Paul to lean forward and hold his hands behind his back, holding his wrists side by side. Resting his head against the dashboard, Paul waits, his heart racing. His smile feels permanently glued to his face and he can’t imagine ever stopping.

Sam wraps his leather belt around his wrists, criss-crossing between them and pulling it tight. Once he’s happy, Sam grabs Paul’s shoulders and gently pulls him back against his seat.

“How does that feel?”

Paul tries moving his wrists—and he realizes he can’t. They’re stuck together, being held by Sam’s belt that he’d so lovingly wrapped around them. His wrists aren’t going anywhere and that’s perfect. It’ll be a constant reminder that he doesn’t need to use his hands for anything when he has Sam taking care of him.

“It’s good,” he whispers, his voice shaking.

Sam turns his chin and studies his face carefully before smiling. “Good. Now I’m gonna get back to the important business.”

Bending down, Sam nuzzles his stomach and goes back to kissing the soft rolls while his hand finds Paul’s cock and wraps around it, squeezing and stroking it. Paul sighs happily and lets his head thump back against the headrest, floating and happy. He really could stay here for the rest of his life.

Eventually, Sam pulls back from his stomach but keeps a tight grip on his cock. Reaching for the marker on the dashboard, he rips off the cap with his teeth and smiles at Paul. “Time to put my name back where it belongs.”

Paul’s heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest and he watches Sam’s hand as it brings the marker close to his stomach. Unfortunately, Sam has to let go of his cock, but Paul knew that would happen. He knows how this goes.

He watches as Sam stretches out his skin, holding it taut between his fingers as he carefully writes the letter ‘S’, the cool tip of the marker dragging and catching on his skin. Sam writes every letter with such care and precision, as if he’s labelling something that’s so precious that he can’t bear the thought of making a mistake. And that makes it all so much better. Eventually, Sam pulls back, smiling down at his stomach. Emblazoned in black ink, Paul’s stomach once again bears the mark that he’d worn so happily and so proudly for years:

_Sam’s._

He’s grinning so hard that his jaw is aching and he can’t stop looking down at the black letters, overjoyed with how good it feels.

After capping the marker, Sam wraps his hand around his cock again and Paul thinks he’s gone straight to heaven. Everything about this is perfect. His hands are tied behind his back with Sam’s belt, Sam’s name is written on his stomach and Sam’s holding his cock, rubbing and fisting the hard length any way he pleases because Paul’s cock has always belonged to Sam, along with the rest of him.

Sam’s smiling at him. “You look so damn happy, Crick,” he whispers.

Paul laughs and it’s a laugh full of relief and joy. “I don’t even know how to describe what I’m feeling.” He’s about to say that he’s missed this so desperately that the grief had been unbearable. That he’d felt empty and alone for these last twenty years. That he finally feels right in his skin again. But all of that would make Sam feel guilty again, and that would destroy this wonderful moment. So Paul just smiles at Sam, who grins back at him and bends down to nuzzle his stomach, kissing the letters forming his name.

Eventually, Paul hears Sam growl and Paul smiles, knowing what that means.

Sure enough, Sam lifts his head and his eyes are wide with heat and intensity. His hand tightens on Paul’s cock and he knows Sam desperately wants to fuck him. But since they’re stuck in the truck cab and surrounded by thigh-deep snow, that’s not an option.

But he knows what Sam’s other favourite activity is and sure enough, Sam’s eyes roam over his body, that flare of lust sparking in them before he bends down and slides his lips over Paul’s cock, making him let out a gasp. Sam presses his arm against his stomach, right over his name and slides down Paul’s cock, enveloping it in moist, warm heat. Throwing his head back, Paul stays still, letting Sam hold him down and use his cock any way he wants. The world outside the truck disappears and the only things in Paul’s world are Sam’s mouth on his cock, his arm across his marked stomach and his hands tied behind his back with Sam’s belt.

Tingles run through him in waves as Sam sucks hard on his cock, rubbing the sensitive slit with his tongue and swallowing around him, groaning happily. Paul doesn’t know what Sam’s plan is, so he just floats along. He doesn’t have to worry about anything because Sam will take care of it.

Eventually, Sam pulls back, his lips shiny with spit and a joyful smile on his face. “Oh, that was nice. But that’s enough for now. You’re gonna come when we get back to my place. I want you staying nice and hard until we get there so I’m gonna keep playing with your cock while we drive. That’ll keep it stiff, just the way I like it.”

Despite his spit-covered cock not enjoying being out of the warmth of Sam’s mouth, having Sam telling him that he’s going to stay hard because Sam’s going to keep touching his cock while they drive makes his breath catch and his cock twitches eagerly, making him whine. This is something they’ve done hundreds of times before and he’s so damn happy that Sam remembers everything that they used to do without Paul having to ask for anything.

Sam chuckles and runs a gentle finger down Paul’s aching cock. “Take deep breaths, Crick. You don’t get to decide when to come.”

Smiling and a shiver running through him, Paul closes his eyes and relaxes in his seat. Despite Sam’s teasing touch on his cock, his firm order and the gentleness of his touch slowly pushes back the desperate urge to come. Eventually, Paul’s calmed down enough that he can open his eyes again and give Sam a smile.

“That’s a good boy,” Sam says, grinning at him. Leaning over, Sam kisses him before reaching into the backseat and dragging his thick blue work jacket into the front. Paul has no idea what Sam’s doing with the insulated jacket right now. Not only is the cab warm, but it’s only twenty below outside; not nearly cold enough to require the thick jacket.

“Okay, let’s get ourselves organized,” Sam says, dropping the jacket between them and reaching over to pull Paul’s shirt, sweater and jacket back down. He tugs Paul’s seatbelt across him, smoothing one strap across his chest and carefully tucking the lower strap across his stomach, gently lifting his hard cock out of the way before he’s clicking the belt into the lock, double checking that it’s secure. Once Paul’s strapped in, Sam checks the straps again, even smoothing out Paul’s clothes across his chest so there aren’t any wrinkles pressed between the strap and his skin. Every movement is done so carefully and with so much love that it makes Paul’s heart glow and emotions rush through him.

Once Sam’s satisfied with the seatbelt, he carefully drapes the thick blue jacket over Paul’s lap. Sam fussed with it for a while, bunching the jacket up enough that no part of it is touching Paul’s aching cock, and that’s when he understands why Sam used this particular jacket. It’s thick enough that nobody passing by will see that Paul’s sitting there with his pants undone and his cock rock hard and nobody will notice that his hands are tied behind his back and not underneath the jacket.

When Sam’s done, he leans back. “Comfortable?”

Paul snorts. “I’ve never been more comfortable in my life. Well…maybe a few times when you tied me up. But this is definitely one of the top ten.”

Sam grins, his eyes sparkling, seeming pleased with himself as he puts on his own seatbelt. “Good. Alright, let’s get going.”

Starting the truck, Sam very carefully backs down the abandoned road, staying in the deep tracks they’d plowed earlier. Paul gets jiggled around a bit, but Sam’s driving so carefully that he’s not worried about bashing his head against the window. Once they’re out on the highway, Sam turns the music back on and settles into his seat, his left leg slumped against his door.

And Paul…Paul’s floating a little, staring out at the snow-covered trees and the highway snaking through the rolling hills. Occasionally, a vehicle passes by them, always making Paul smile. They have no idea that he’s sitting here, his hands tied behind his back, Sam’s name written on his stomach and his cock out of his pants, hidden beneath Sam’s jacket and available for Sam to touch whenever he wants.

After a few minutes, Sam reaches over and slides his hand under the jacket, finding Paul’s cock and squeezing it. He fists and squeezes it, bringing it back to full hardness and making Paul sigh and moan.

Once Sam has his cock back to full, throbbing hardness, Sam smirks and rubs his thumb over the slit, which makes Paul’s toes curl. “There we go, back to its natural state. Just the way I like it.”

Paul huffs out a shaky laugh and relaxes, letting his arousal tingle through him as he stares out at the passing wilderness. Every second that goes by, he’s conscious of Sam’s name written on his stomach, his hands being held together Sam’s belt and Sam’s warm hand holding his cock. As the kilometres tick by and everything stays exactly the same, Paul feels something deep within him slowly settling back into place. Like a jigsaw puzzle piece that somebody had tried to cram into its spot the wrong way, that piece is finally being correctly nudged into its spot and it’s settling in, making him feel smooth and whole and unbelievably happy.

And none of it would be happening if Sam hadn’t made such an effort to push past Paul’s pain and anger. If Sam had done what Paul told him to and never returned to Wiley, Paul would never get to have this again.

“Sam?” Paul murmurs when they’re halfway to Gibson.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for not listening to me and for coming back to Wiley to keep trying.”

Sam’s hand on his cock tightens. “You’re welcome,” he says, his voice rough. He’s quiet for a while, until he finally clears his throat. “Thank you for letting me come back to Wiley.”

Smiling, Paul closes his eyes and settles back against his seat. “You’re welcome.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Crick?”

Sam’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away and it takes a few tries before Paul can turn his head to look at him. He’s moving very slowly, floating in that happy place. The heat in the cab and the soothing motion of the truck are probably adding to it, but most of it is probably due to his poor brain and body having been denied this for so long and now they’re drunk with happiness.

“Crick? Can you hear me?”

“Hmm?” That’s the best he can manage.

“We’re not gonna go shopping right now. You’re in subspace and that’s not gonna go well. We’re gonna stop at Tim’s to get some food for later and then we’re gonna go to my place. We’re gonna have to get you out of subspace for a little bit cause I can’t carry you up to my apartment and we need to talk about a couple of things. But I promise, once we’re done with all that, I’ll get you back under and you can stay there all night.”

Paul blinks at him sleepily and smiles. Most of the words had gone right in one of his ears and out the other, but he’d heard the word ‘Tim’s’. “Okay.”

Sam chuckles and rubs his thumb along the thick vein running up his cock, making Paul shiver. “Everything I said went right in one ear and out the other, eh? That’s okay. Just relax and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Paul keeps staring out the window as they enter Gibson and Sam pulls off the highway, driving towards the nearest Tim Hortons. Heading through the drive-thru of the coffee and donut shop, Sam stops by the speakers and lowers his window. A female voice comes out of the speaker, thick with static. “Hi there, welcome to Tim Hortons. What can I get you?”

When Sam doesn’t release his grip on Paul’s cock as the drive-thru employee’s voice carries through the speaker, an intense shiver of arousal shoots through Paul and he sinks even deeper into that wonderful haze. Sam is really going to go through the drive-thru, talk to people, get them food and he’ll do it all as he’s holding Paul’s hard cock underneath his jacket while Paul’s in his seat with his hands tied behind his back. Best of all, he’d just decided to do this without asking Paul and that makes the whole thing even more intense. This is definite proof that Sam remembers exactly how to take care of Paul and if he weren’t so turned on by all of this, he’d probably be in tears from gratitude.

It’s not the naughty nature of the act that’s making Paul shake, but it’s knowing that Sam’s telling the entire world that Paul belongs to him—all while the world remains ignorant about the message he’s sending. Sam’s protecting him but also reminding him that he’s in charge and that’s amazing.

“Hey there. Could I get two large double-double coffees, two BLT sandwiches on white and a box of twenty Timbits?” Sam’s voice sounds as casual as if he were sitting in his truck by himself, not holding Paul’s cock and rubbing his leaking slit with his thumb as he talks.

“What kind of Timbits would you like, sir?”

Every word from the employee is making Paul shake harder and he’s gasping for breath, his arousal rapidly rising. If he could, he would happily take the jacket off his lap and undo his shirt and tell Sam to drive through Gibson, showing everybody that he belongs to Sam and that he’s deliriously happy about it.

But there’s a small part of Paul that acknowledges what a bad idea that would be. Not only would that be a crime, but he’d regret it and he’d be hurting innocent people. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to work hard to stop himself from doing any of that because Sam’s in charge and he’ll decide what happens.

On another fortunate note, Sam seems to have noticed that Paul’s ridiculously close to coming and he slides his hand lower and squeezes the base of Paul’s cock, staving off his orgasm. Paul lets out a choked whine and goes tense as he struggles to stay in control.

“I’d like five plain old-fashioned and fifteen honey dip, if you got ‘em. And can I get extra napkins, please?” Sam’s voice is still calm and casual, at complete odds with the tight grip he has on Paul’s cock, sending a clear message through his hand: Paul hasn’t been given permission to come.

Desperately wanting to obey him, Paul struggles to tune out Sam’s conversation with the Tim Hortons’ employee and slow his shaky breathing. He’s barely aware of the truck moving again. But if being at the speaker was arousing, it’s nothing compared to how mind-numbingly hot it is when they pull up to the pick-up window and there’s an actual person standing less than a metre away from Sam, looking into the truck cab.

“That’ll be $22.40, sir.” The teenager sounds bored as she adjusts her head set.

“Just a sec,” Sam tells her and releases the steering wheel to dig his wallet out of his jeans.

Paul stares at his wallet with wide eyes. Sam’s not letting go of his cock. He’s actually going to pay for their food and pick up their food one-handed because he’s not going to releases Paul’s cock because it belongs to him and he’s in charge of it. He’s sending Paul the very clear message that no matter what he has to get done in his daily life, he’ll always be in charge of Paul’s cock and he’ll take care of it. Paul never has to worry about it ever again.

Not only that, but Paul’s achingly hard, he’s leaking all over Sam’s hand and his own stomach, he’s shaking as arousal races through him and the only reason the girl in the drive-thru window can’t see any of this is because he’s protected by Sam’s thick jacket. Clenching his jaw hard, Paul’s sweating and he closes his eyes, his cock throbbing with the need to come.

He’s never been this turned on in his entire life. He still has that ridiculous and very inappropriate need to get rid of the jacket and his shirt so he can show her and everybody else how happy he is that he belongs to Sam, but again—thankfully, that’s not his choice to make and Sam would never allow him to hurt himself or other people like that.

Sam hands the girl some money and takes a tray with two large paper cups, a large paper bag and the little box of donut holes. Stashing everything between them, Sam gives the girl a smile. “Thanks a lot, you can keep the change. Have a nice day!”

“You too, sir.”

Then the truck is moving again and Sam’s peeling out of the parking lot, driving a lot faster than he should be in the town limits. To Paul’s confusion, Sam’s driving straight up the main road and he’s not pulling over into the residential area where most of the apartment buildings are. But honestly, Paul couldn’t care less where they’re going. He’s shaking and even Sam’s tight grip on him won’t let him hold off much longer. He still can’t believe they just went through the God damn Tim Hortons drive-thru, in full view of that employee and Sam was holding Paul’s cock the entire time.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve done in my entire life,” Sam mutters, his voice shaky and his hand gripping the steering wheel as he drives.

Paul wants to chuckle and tell him that he agrees, but he’s way beyond being able to do that. He just really, really needs to come. “Sam, I can’t…” he chokes out.

“I know,” Sam says, that tight grip on his cock not easing up. “I’m not gonna last either. Just wait a few more minutes and we can both come.”

* * *

Driving them straight through town, Sam turns off onto the bypass road that runs around the back of town and heads for the closest road. He’s so turned on that he’s ridiculously close to coming in his pants and he knows Paul’s even closer.

When he’d decided to get them food from Tim Hortons, he’d done it because he’d had big plans for Paul once they get to his apartment and none of them involved wasting time to cook them lunch. But once he’d pulled into the drive-thru, the reality of what he was doing had hit him and his already-high adrenaline had shot through the roof. It had made him feel so damn powerful to sit in his truck and hold Paul’s cock, while Paul’s hands were tied up with his belt and Sam’s jacket was covering him up, protecting him.

He’d started shaking as soon as the employee’s voice had come through the speaker, overwhelmed with how possessive he felt over Paul. Paul belonged to him, he was Sam’s to protect and he was trusting Sam to make every decision for him. Sam had fallen headfirst into domspace harder than he has in years.

That voice in the back of his head had piped up, reminding him that he could have had this for the last twenty years if he hadn’t been an idiot, but he’d quickly pushed that voice aside. Like Paul had told him, he can either focus on his guilt and regrets, or he can focus on the present. But he can’t do both.

It had been a struggle to keep his voice friendly with the Timmie’s employee and not growl at her when he’d pulled up at the window. He knew she wasn’t a threat to Paul, but his brain had been filled with nothing but that primal need to assert his dominance and prove that he wouldn’t allow anybody near his sub.

In hindsight, going through the drive-thru hadn’t been the brightest idea, especially when he and Paul had only just agreed to resume their prior dom and sub roles in their relationship. No doubt he and Paul will both calm down once they’ve passed what’s technically their second honeymoon phase, but that won’t happen for a while.

The only thought in his head is letting himself and Paul have the orgasms they so desperately want, but he won’t do that in town where they could be seen. Paul isn’t in any shape to make rational decisions right now and Sam has to stay in control enough to take care of both of them.

Turning off on the first road they come to, Sam pulls the truck over and turns it off, leaving the keys dangling from the ignition. There’s only one house down this dead-end road and hopefully, the owner won’t decide to drive past in the next little while. Undoing his seatbelt, he rips the jacket off Paul’s lap and unclips his seatbelt, slowing his movements to pull the seatbelt safely off him and not hurt him.

Paul lets out a whine, flushed and shaking, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at Sam. He’s deep in subspace and it makes Sam’s breath catch. For a moment, all he can do is stare at Paul and marvel over the fact that his actions are what put Paul into such a state. It makes his adrenaline spike again and he shivers hard. His hand that’s been holding Paul’s hard, leaking cock is covered in sticky cum that’s been steadily leaking from it. Needing to see his name written on Paul’s stomach again, Sam shoves up his shirt and sweater and a jolt of heat runs through him as he stares at the black letters on Paul’s soft stomach. Bending down, he nuzzles the markings, kissing them as Paul groans and shakes.

“You’re being such a good boy, Crick,” Sam whispers against his skin between kisses, his voice shaking. “You did so good. You’re gonna suck my cock and I’m gonna come on your face and then I’m gonna suck you off, okay?”

Pulling back, Sam studies Paul’s face to see his reaction and it’s nothing but positive. Paul’s lips part and he lets out a whimper, his half-lidded eyes shining and a smile on his face. Reaching down, Sam undoes the buttons and zipper on his jeans, hissing as his throbbing cock presses against his underwear, desperate for freedom. Pulling his cock out, Sam grins as he sees Paul staring at it hungrily.

Gently releasing his hold on Paul’s cock, he grips the back of his neck, pulling Paul down to his cock. He holds his cock with one hand and brings Paul’s face closer, keeping a tight hold on the back of his neck. Despite his body wanting to shove his entire cock down Paul’s throat, he remembers that Paul’s relationship with cock sucking had always been difficult. It’s not a discussion they’d rehashed recently, so Sam decides to play it safe. Holding his cock steady, he gently guides Paul’s mouth closer. Paul parts his lips with a groan and wraps his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, sending a surge of arousal through Sam and making him gasp.

Staring down at Paul suckling on the tip of his cock while Paul’s hands are still tied behind his back with Sam’s belt is unbelievably arousing. It’s been twenty years since he’d last been blessed with this image, but it’s one he’ll never take for granted again. It’s a struggle not to let himself go and fuck Paul’s mouth, but Sam ruthlessly pushes that desire back. He wants whatever will make Paul happy.

He keeps an even grip on Paul’s neck, making sure he doesn’t tumble into Sam’s lap but letting him feel that Sam’s keeping him in place. Holding his breath, he watches and waits to see if Paul wants to take more of his cock into his mouth, but Paul is happily sucking and licking at the head. It’s exactly what he used to like doing and Sam smiles, relaxing against his seat and letting himself enjoy Paul’s warm tongue and mouth suckling on the head of his cock, sending tingles through him.

Paul’s moaning and whining happily, a smile curling his lips whenever he pulls off to lick his lips. Seeing Paul’s joy makes everything even better and Sam smiles softly down at him. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “You’re doing such a good job. Feel so good. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? Such a good boy.”

That makes Paul shiver hard and Sam’s smile widens, his heart glowing at how happy Paul is and how good they’re both feeling. Sam could happily stay here for hours, but he’s been on the edge for too long and having Paul’s lips back on his cock after so long makes it impossible to stretch things out. Before long, his arousal builds in his belly and Sam tenses, knowing he’s going to come.

“I’m gonna come,” he mumbles. “Close your eyes, Crick.”

Paul keeps gently sucking on the tip of his cock but he obediently closes his eyes and when Sam tenses up and starts coming, he tightens his grip on the back of Paul’s neck to keep him close as strands of his cum shoot from his cock and cover Paul’s face, making both of them moan.

Sam fists his cock hard, gasping for breath as he keeps coming, coaxing more cum out of himself and covering Paul’s blissed-out face, wanting to cover him up. Marking Paul with his cum makes that primal possessiveness surge through him again and he listens to Paul moaning, his lips parted as he trembles. “Good boy. My good boy. You love having my cum on you, don’t you? Feels so good being marked with my cum. I’m gonna tie you to the bed for a week and spend all day and all night coming all over you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Just lying there and being marked with my cum. I’d write my name all over you and cover you with my cum and everybody would know you belong to me.”

Paul lets out a half-sob, not moving where he’s bent over Sam’s lap, white cum covering his face.

Now that he’s come, Sam’s feeling a little calmer, but he’s still deep in domspace and he can tell from the tension in Paul’s body that he’s going to lose the battle to not come very soon. Paul will be disappointed by that and Sam doesn’t want any disappointment darkening this amazing day. Gently pulling Paul back up, he pushes him into his seat and follows him, bending down and sliding his lips over Paul’s hard, wet cock. Paul lets out a shout, tensing as Sam sucks hard and takes a deep breath, sliding deeper and letting Paul’s cock slip into his throat. He holds it there, relishing the warm, heavy weight of his cock filling his mouth and throat.

Paul whines and his hips thrust a few times before he’s coming down Sam’s throat. Closing his eyes at how good it feels, Sam pulls back a bit, sucking on the head of Paul’s cock and eagerly swallowing every bit of cum. When he’s gotten every last drop, he keeps suckling on the tip of Paul’s cock for a bit, knowing it’s sensitive but also knowing that Paul likes that. Sam gets to decide when he’s done sucking Paul’s cock, not Paul. It’s just another way for Sam to assert his dominance over Paul and that’s a win-win for both of them.

Sure enough, Paul twitches and lets out a whine that ends on a moan, making Sam grin as he gently holds the sensitive tip between his lips, rubbing the slit with his tongue and tasting the last bitterness of Paul’s cum. Honestly, Sam’s always felt sorry for other doms who consider cock sucking to be too submissive and never allow themselves to indulge in it. He’s never had a problem asserting his dominance over somebody when he’s sucking their cock.

When Sam’s determined he’s had enough, he sits up and pulls Paul against his chest, not caring that Paul’s face is still covered in cum. Paul’s shaking and gasping for breath, letting out soft sounds and slumping against Sam’s chest.

“You did so good,” Sam whispers into his ear, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “I’m so proud of you. We’re gonna come down now, okay?”

Paul doesn’t reply and Sam waits, holding Paul but gradually loosening his grip on him, wanting Paul to come out of subspace.

Eventually, Sam rubs Paul’s back. “I’m gonna take off the belt, okay? We can put some nice cuffs on you when we get to my place, but we really gotta talk about some things and we both gotta calm down.”

Paul grumbles, but he pulls back from Sam, looking more alert, if a bit sleepy still. Sam’s smudged cum on his face makes heat coil in Sam’s stomach again, but he takes a deep breath and blinks hard to stay focused.

“Fine,” Paul mumbles.

Sam smiles and kisses his cum-covered cheek. “That’s my good boy.” Pushing Paul against the dashboard, Sam undoes the belt and gently shoves him back into his seat, stopping to kiss his name on Paul’s stomach again before he tucks Paul back into his pants and pulls down his shirt and sweater.

Paul lets out a long sigh and glances at him as Sam’s making him presentable again. “You gonna put your own cock back in your pants or are you gonna leave it there? Cause I’m telling you, I’m gonna go right back to la la land if it stays out.”

Sam laughs and puts his cock back into pants, doing up his pants with a flourish. “There. We’re ready to be out in public again.” Then he catches sight of his cum covering Paul’s face. “Well…not quite.”

Opening the Tim Hortons bag, he pulls out the wad of napkins and turns to Paul. “Let’s get your face cleaned up.”

But as Sam reaches for him, Paul’s smile slides off his face and he looks devastated. He doesn’t pull back, instinctively willing to let Sam do whatever he wants, but it’s clear he’s not happy at the thought of Sam’s cum being wiped off him.

Sighing softly, Sam drops the napkins and berates himself again. He’s a fucking moron. Not because it hadn’t occurred to him that Paul wouldn’t be happy to have Sam’s cum be wiped off him, but because Paul’s submissive needs have grown into an enormous cavern as a result of Sam’s stupid decision to leave him. Even though they hadn’t discussed it in detail, it’s clear that Paul hasn’t had those needs fulfilled in the last twenty years, either out of lack of desire, lack of opportunity or both. In any case, Paul’s been desperately craving something that he’s been denied for decades. That guilt starts gnawing at him again, but Sam pushes it back. That guilt won’t help him take care of Paul.

Thinking, Sam quickly comes up with a plan. He does need to get the cum off Paul’s face because he doesn’t want him being humiliated when they go to his apartment, but he can give Paul a replacement. Grabbing Paul’s chin, Sam turns him to face Sam and kisses him hard. “I’m not gonna take it away, Crick. I just gotta get it off your face so nobody else can see it.”

Paul stares at him, eyes sad and heavy misery on his face. “Okay,” he mumbles glumly.

Knowing Paul doesn’t believe him and that his mind is still focused way too much on the thought that Sam’s devotion to him is a fragile, temporary thing, Sam decides to carry out his plan. Hopefully, Paul will feel better within a few minutes.

Grabbing one of the napkins, Sam wipes the cum that’s on his own jacket and gently wipes off the smudges that haven’t dried completely on Paul’s face. Quite a bit of it’s already dried so Sam reaches into his backseat and rummages around in the assorted crap back there until he finds a bottle of water. Using as little water as he can, he carefully wipes off every bit of cum from Paul’s face as Paul stays still and quiet, allowing Sam to turn his face this way and that, his eyes filled with sadness.

Once Sam’s gotten all the cum off Paul’s face, he gives Paul a quick kiss. “Okay, all ready for public viewing. But just because I took my cum off your face doesn’t mean you don’t get to keep it. I told you before that every drop of my cum belongs to you just like every drop of yours belongs to me.”

Paul frowns but Sam doesn’t wait for him to ask questions. Shoving Paul back against his seat, Sam opens Paul’s pants and pulls his soft cock back out, gently wrapping the moist, cum-covered napkin around his cock.

Letting out a gasp, Paul shivers hard and his hands spasm as they grip the door frame and the arm rest between them as he understands what Sam’s doing.

Smiling, Sam snugly wraps the sticky napkin around Paul’s sensitive cock before tucking it back into his pants and doing them up, sealing his cum around Paul’s cock. He’ll need to use plenty of water to get the napkins back off so he doesn’t hurt Paul, but Sam thinks it’s worth it. Giving Paul’s cock a pat through his jeans—which makes Paul jerk and let out a moan—Sam leans back and grins at him. “Happy?”

Paul stares at him, his eyes wide as a huge smile lights up his face. “Deacon, I…” Paul’s voice trails off as he slumps against his seat, looking relaxed and happy.

Leaning over, Sam kisses him hard. Once he pulls back, he stares at Paul, giving him a hard look. “I told you that I’m gonna take care of you. I’m always gonna take that responsibility seriously, I promise. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

Paul’s face crumbles and he draws in a shaky breath, nodding.

Wrapping his arms around Paul, Sam pulls him close, kissing the side of his head as he holds him tight.

* * *

Paul is so damn grateful that Sam keeps his arms wrapped around him. The emotions he’s feeling are so overwhelming and he’s still constantly going from happy highs to sad lows and it’s making his head spin. Having his hands untied and Sam’s cum being wiped of his face is hard, but when Sam wraps the cum-covered napkin around his cock and Paul reminds himself that Sam’s name is still written on his stomach, he feels better.

When he’s feeling more stable, they drink their coffees and eat their sandwiches. As he’s munching on his sandwich, Paul’s eyes land on the box of Timbits. He doesn’t even remember Sam buying any. “What kind of Timbits did you get?” he mumbles around his sandwich.

Sam swallows. “Five old-fashioned plain for me and fifteen honey dip for you.”

A smile spreads over Paul’s face. Sam had never had a big sweet-tooth and he rarely ate donuts, but he did enjoy the plain donut holes. On the other hand, Paul loves sweet things and the sugary honey dipped ones have always been his favourite. “I can’t believe you remembered my favourite Timbits.”

Snorting, Sam takes another bite of his sandwich. “I’ve never forgotten a single thing about you, Becker. That’s like me forgetting my own birthday or my name. I wasn’t sure if you still liked the same ones you used to, but…”

Paul grins. “I do.” Then he hesitates because Timbits used to have a very special meaning for the two of them. “Do you have a special plan for them?”

“Well...if you’re in the mood, then I was planning on feeding them to you when we’re home. You think you’d like that?”

Laughing, Paul leans back in his seat and bites into his sandwich. “Oh, I don’t know. I have specific requirements for getting fed.”

“Oh? Can I guess what they are?”

Paul grins as he chews. “Go for it. Every guess that you get wrong means one Timbit that you don’t get to eat. So you have five tries.”

Sam makes himself comfortable in his seat and smirks at Paul. “You want your hands tied behind your back.”

Paul nods. “Yep. Next?”

“Kneeling between my legs while I’m sitting somewhere, either on the couch or at the table. That’s technically two things.”

Laughing, Paul takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right on both counts.”

“And you gotta be naked.”

Paul grins at him. “It seems age has actually improved your memory, not the other way around.”

Sam shrugs, but his eyes are sparkling. “Told you. But hey—if you’re interested, then I’ve got some new ideas that we could try adding to our Timbits routine or just in general.”

That makes Paul pause and excitement rushes through him. “Yeah? What ideas?”

To his surprise, Sam looks a bit timid and his eyes drop to his sandwich. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier but then we got distracted. You mentioned you screwed around with guys down south over the years.”

“Uh huh…” Paul has no idea where Sam’s going with this conversation.

“Did you ever…do things like this with any of ‘em?”

Paul snorts. “God, no. If anything, they assumed that I wanted to call the shots. You know that doesn’t get me going. Fucking them was doable, but that’s as far as it went. Anyway, I don’t think other people do things like this.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “That’s the thing, Crick. They do. A lot of people do.”

Startled, Paul’s eyebrows fly up and he lowers his sandwich as he stares at Sam. This conversation isn’t going in the direction he thought it would go. “Really?”

Sam’s eyes are still on his sandwich. “Uh huh. It’s not out in the open, but there’s clubs and places where people meet up. They do the kind of things we do and a lot of other stuff. I…spent a lot of time at those clubs.”

It surprises Paul when the first thought of Sam dominating other people isn’t jealousy, but pride. Sam’s so damn good at taking care of him. He probably did a really great job with those other people, but now those other people won’t ever get to have Sam again because Sam’s going to be busy taking care of Paul. And that makes him feel really smug.

“What are you smirking at, Becker?” Sam mutters.

Paul laughs. “I’m thinking about how lucky I am and how sorry I feel for the poor bastards down south who won’t ever get to have you take care of them again because I’m taking up all of your attention and time.”

Sam chuckles. “You’re really something. Jesus.”

Despite not having any problem with Sam’s past, Paul can tell Sam’s hesitant about sharing these details. “Did you like spending time with those people?”

“Yeah. Well, at first. Then I missed you too damn much and I had to stop going cause it hurt. But I did learn a lot of new tricks.”

That makes Paul grin as his heart races, despite the sadness of Sam’s first confession. “Yeah?”

Hearing his excitement, Sam’s smile returns. “Yeah. I got all kinds of equipment too. Decent cuffs, spreader bars, vibrating plugs…lots of stuff.”

Paul has no idea what a spreader bar is, but all of that sounds very exciting. “When can we try out these fancy toys?”

Sam’s smile blooms into that familiar grin. “Whenever you want.”

“Well, hurry up and finish your sandwich so you can drive us to your apartment and use all those fancy toys on me. And don’t forget you’re gonna feed me Timbits. Fuck, we got a busy evening ahead of us.”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t know how you’re gonna fit it all in.”

That makes Paul laugh. “Oh, you know I have no problem fitting things in. You just worry about getting things stretched and lubed and I’ll do the rest.”

That makes Sam laugh so hard that he ends up in tears and he nearly drops his sandwich, making Paul feel really smug.


	8. Chapter 8

An hour later, Paul’s back in heaven. He’s naked and kneeling on Sam’s living room floor on a towel, his face resting on the soft towel and his hands tied behind his back. But unlike when they’ve done this in the past, he’s using a bunch of Sam’s new toys and he’s already in love with them.

He’s wearing padded leather wrist cuffs that are so much more comfortable than anything Sam had used on him in the past. Sam had clipped them together with a carabiner and no matter how hard Paul tugs on them, his wrists aren’t going to separate. Another fun new toy is the padded spreader bar. It consists of a metal bar with metal cuffs attached to either end. The cuffs have a layer of padding on them, making them very comfortable. Even if he tries, Paul can’t close his legs, keeping his knees spread wide open and his ass fully on display, which had made him sink very fast when Sam had locked them shut.

Making the whole thing even better is that Sam had put him into the restraints and left him lying on the floor, tied up and his ass up in the air while Sam walks around his apartment, unpacking his bag and doing other things while he completely ignores Paul.

Watching Sam walking around fully clothed while Paul’s lying on the ground, his ass up, his cock rock hard and his knees spread wide open makes him feel submissive and so damn happy. He’s trembling while his ass clenches around nothing. He’s desperate for Sam to fill him up with something, but he’s also loving how Sam’s not doing anything about it.

Paul’s clearly not in control. Even if he wanted to, he can’t close his legs and he can’t get up. He can’t use his hands and he can’t come. All he can do is lie here, waiting to be used whenever Sam wants. His hole keeps twitching, aching to be fucked and his breathing is choppy because he’s shaking so hard, floating deep in his happy haze with his cock throbbing.

Sam comes to a stop, his socked feet inches from his face and Paul automatically turns his face towards his feet, letting Sam see his smile and blinking slowly up at him.

“You look so damn good, Crick. You’re feeling good too, hmm?”

Kneeling down next to him, Sam smiles down at him and rubs his hand over Paul’s back. “Look at you—being my good boy. Just lying here, waiting for me to decide when you get fucked and when you get to come. I could leave you here all day.”

That makes a groan come out of Paul’s mouth and the smile that’s once again become a constant part of his face grows bigger.

Sam chuckles and kisses his cheek. “My good boy,” he whispers. “You’re so damn happy, aren’t you?”

Normally, he doesn’t need to answer Sam’s questions when he’s talking to him in that voice, but Paul wants to make sure that Sam understands just how happy he is. “I’m…I’m…I feel really good,” he mumbles, his words slurring a bit.

Sam covers his face in soft kisses, rubbing his back. “Good. Are your knees hurting at all?”

Paul shakes his head, smiling happily.

“What about your shoulders?”

Another shake. “They’re…perfect.”

“The wrist cuffs feel good?”

“Uh huh.”

“And the spreader bar’s comfortable?”

Paul nods his head, blinking slowly at Sam.

“Good.”

Nuzzling his face, Sam brushes more kisses over his skin before he’s standing up and walking around behind him. Paul thinks Sam’s walking away to leave him lying spread out on the floor again, until he feels soft fabric rubbing up the crack of his ass and pressing against his twitching hole. It’s Sam’s sock-covered toes. Feeling Sam rubbing his foot over his twitching hole while Paul’s ass is up in the air and Sam’s still fully clothed makes Paul let out a loud whine and a jolt of arousal rushes up his back.

“Good boy. Your hole needs to get fucked, eh? You need something in that hole. Lucky for you, I got just the thing.”

Paul hopes Sam’s talking about his cock, but when Sam walks away from him and rummages through the box of goodies where the cuffs and spreader bar had come from, Paul’s breath catches, eagerly waiting to see what he’ll pull out. To Paul’s surprise, Sam pulls out a butt plug.

Seeing Paul staring at it, Sam grins. “I know you’re fond of your dildos and plugs, but have you ever tried a vibrating plug?”

Paul’s eyes widen as he stares at it. The website he orders his toys from is very basic and they don't have any electronic toys. He didn't even know such things existed. The thought of what that will feel like in his ass makes him groan and his hole twitches eagerly.

Sam laughs. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Let me get the lube.” He disappears into the bedroom, leaving Paul to twitch and hyperventilate on the floor.

When Sam returns, he kneels behind Paul and rubs his back, squeezing his ass and groaning when Paul’s hole keeps twitching. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you? I’m gonna keep this hole stuffed full from now on. It won’t ever get lonely again, I promise.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Paul squeezes his eyes shut. His emotions are already all over the place and hearing Sam making promises like that makes him want to cry with relief. Then Sam’s slick fingers are rubbing over his hole and nudging past the rim and all other thoughts vanish as Paul whines and shakes, desperate for Sam to fill him up. Sam doesn’t waste any time, sliding two of his thick fingers into him and opening him up with deep, hard thrusts. A third finger is added and Paul clenches around all three fingers, moaning, desperate for more.

Sam’s other hand rubs his back. “Shh, calm down. I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna get this hole filled up and keep it filled until it’s satisfied.”

Taking his time, Sam fucks him with his fingers. Paul could easily take the plug or anything else by now, but Sam seems to be enjoying playing with his ass, thrusting in deep and using his other fingers to rub or tug at his stretched rim as Paul’s arousal climbs higher, his cock throbbing.

Slowly, Sam’s fingers pull out and something new nudges at his loose rim and slides in, gently being pushed into him. Paul groans and closes his eyes as his hole is filled up, his rim stretching around the hard toy.

The large bulb is pushed into him before his hole clenches around the narrower end. The toy is now sealed in his ass and even if he wanted to, the spreader bar and wrist cuffs are preventing him from removing it. Not only is that amazing, but he doesn’t care that he can’t remove it. He doesn’t have to worry about that because that’s Sam’s job. That sends another burst of heat through him and he lets out a half-sob, smiling.

Sam’s rubbing his back. “That’s my good boy. I’m gonna turn it on and it might feel a little intense.”

There’s a click and all other thoughts fly out of Paul’s head as the plug starts gently buzzing inside him.

“Oh…! Oh…fuck,” he breathes out, arousal pulsing through him.

Sam chuckles quietly and keeps rubbing his back. “You like that, huh? Let’s turn it up a bit.”

Another click and the vibrations get stronger, making him gasp. His cock is aching and he can’t tell how much he’s shaking from arousal versus the toy buzzing inside him. It feels incredible. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the waves of heat that rush through him.

There’s another click and the buzzing gets even stronger. A string of sounds come out of his mouth that he has no control over and it’s so intense that he’s shaking and tensing—which makes his ass clench around the toy harder and increases the intensity of the vibrations. The tension in his arms and legs are making him tug on the restraints, but they’re not letting him move an inch, keeping him captive with that amazing buzzing.

His eyes are clenched shut and he barely hears Sam when he tells Paul how good he’s doing and how amazing he looks. All he’s aware of is how intense the vibrations are and how incredible the restraints feel that are keeping him in place. Best of all, he’s not in control of any of it. He can’t get out of the restraints and he can’t control the vibrations. Sam’s the one who’s in charge of all those things and all Paul can do is go along for the earth-shaking, intense ride.

He’s so desperate to come that he wants to cry and when Sam’s warm hand suddenly wraps around his throbbing cock, rubbing the leaking, sensitive head before sliding down and squeezing the base, Paul cries out and starts to sob. He’s never felt this good in his entire life.

“You’re being my good boy, Crick. Look at you; you look amazing. You’re doing so good. You’re not gonna come yet. Not yet. Just a little while longer. I wanna keep looking at you and touching your gorgeous body. Your cock is so damn hard and you’re leaking all over the towel. Making such a mess.”

Sam’s covering his face in kisses as Paul cries and shakes, clenching around the plug and tugging on the restraints. Part of his tears are from the intensity, but they’re also relief and gratitude.

“You’re being my good boy. You’ve never looked more gorgeous than you do right now. But I think I know what will make you feel even better. Open your eyes, Crick.”

With extreme difficulty, Paul manages to peel his eyes open, and to his joy, Sam’s hard cock is right in front of his face. Parting his lips, Paul shakes and sobs and waits. It’s not possible that he’ll get to have Sam’s cock on top of everything else…

…but he does. Sam guides his cock into Paul’s mouth, letting him suckle and lick at the leaking tip as he cries and clenches around the plug and tugs on the restraints.

“Good boy. That’s my good boy.”

Sucking on the tip of Sam’s cock is the icing on the cake. He’s too overwhelmed to do more than lie there, his face pressed against the towel and keep his mouth open, but Sam does it for him, gently guiding the head of his cock in and out of Paul’s mouth and rubbing it over his lips as he smiles down at him.

Then things get even better when Sam reaches underneath him and grabs his aching cock with a slippery hand and fists him hard. “You’ve been such a good boy. I want you to come now.”

Sobbing with relief as he suckles on Sam’s cock, Paul clenches his eyes shut and lets go, his orgasm slamming through him. It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had and he’s only aware of it starting before everything fades.


	9. Chapter 9

When Paul blinks his eyes open, he’s lying on Sam’s naked chest with Sam’s arms wrapped around him. They’re lying on the living room floor and their feet are tangled together.

Paul feels amazing. He’s relaxed and every part of him feels right.

“Crick?”

“Hmm?”

Sam’s arms tighten around him. “You okay?”

“Uh huh. I…God…” That’s the best he can do.

Sam chuckles and kisses his head. “That’s a good response. I like that.”

As Paul slowly coaxes his sluggish brain to start moving, he takes stock of his surroundings. He’s not wearing any of the bondage equipment anymore and Sam’s not wearing any clothes. That’s very different from what he remembers. “Did I pass out?”

Sam kisses his head again and rubs his back. “Just a little bit. That was really intense. I got you out of the restraints and you always liked my skin against yours, so here we are.”

Sam says it so casually, like taking care of Paul when he’s passed out after an earth-shattering orgasm is normal. It’s such an incredible feeling to be loved like that. “Thanks, Sam,” he mumbles.

That earns him a light smack on the ass. “Stop it. You say ‘thanks, Sam’ when I hand you a pen. Don’t say ‘thanks, Sam’ when I’m taking care of you. That’s a normal part of life.”

Smiling, Paul nuzzles his face against the hair on Sam’s chest.

“So you liked the restraints?” Sam asks into his hair.

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely gonna make those part of routine.”

Sam chuckles. “What about the plug?”

“It’s on my new favourite list. It was intense so I don’t wanna use it all the time, but it’s a very nice treat.”

“I agree,” Sam says softly, still rubbing Paul’s back.

Eventually, Paul feels stable enough to sit up a bit and look Sam over. He’s smiling and looks relaxed, but his cock is half-hard, which it definitely wasn’t the last time Paul saw it. Or rather, felt it in his mouth. “Did you come?”

Sam shrugs. “Nope. Had more important things to do.”

Paul smiles. “Well, those important things have been taken care of. If you wanna do something nice for your cock, now’s the time.”

Grinning up at him, Sam smacks his ass, a little harder than before. “Go get on the bed. Oh, and put the wrist cuffs back on.”

Excitement bubbles through Paul again and he rolls off Sam and grabs the wrist cuffs off the floor. Standing up, he heads towards the bedroom, smiling as he does up the leather straps of the cuffs around his wrists.

Lying down on the bed, he keeps staring at the cuffs. They’re so comfortable and he loves how they stand out against his pale skin. The thick metal D-rings on them leave no doubt about what the cuffs are used for and that makes arousal coil in his stomach again. Then his eyes drift downwards, settling on the black letters that are still written on his stomach.

_Sam’s._

Together with the cuffs, seeing Sam’s name on his stomach makes Paul shiver with arousal and bone-deep happiness.

Sam comes into the bedroom a few minutes later, holding a glass of water and a bundle of cargo straps that are normally used to strap things down on truck trailers. Holding up the straps, he grins at Paul, his eyes sparkling. “I’m thinking of tying you to the bed.”

Paul’s smile grows into a grin. “I’m thinking that’s a great idea.”

Sam laughs and holds out the glass of water. “Drink first.”

While Paul sits up to grab the glass and drinks, Sam crouches down next to the head of the bed, doing something with the straps.

Taking a deep breath to calm the excitement making his heart race, Paul finishes the water quickly and puts the glass down so he can lie down and stare up at the ceiling, eagerly waiting.

When Sam’s head pops back up, he gestures with his hand. “Gimme one of your hands.”

Paul flings one of his arms to Sam, who grabs it and snaps the hook from the strap over the D-ring. It’s instinct to tug on it, but there’s very little give. As Paul pulls on it, arousal shoots through him again when it becomes clear that he’s not going anywhere. “Oh, I like that,” he breathes out.

Sam’s studying his face and a smile lights up his face. “Just wait until I do the other one.” He walks around the bed with the other strap and restrains Paul’s other hand, leaving him stretched out and held down.

Even if he tried, Paul couldn’t undo the straps. The only person who can get Paul out of these restraints is Sam and that’s a wonderful feeling. Paul’s heart is pounding and he’s shaking a bit, already sinking back down into that wonderful haze as he stares up at the ceiling.

He’s distracted by the bed shifting as Sam climbs onto the mattress. Pushing Paul’s legs apart, Sam grips his thighs and bends Paul’s legs, shuffling closer to him as he stares down at him, his eyes wide and filled with heat. Paul notices Sam’s eyes are constantly stopping on his stomach, where his name is still written in the dark, permanent marker.

“You look damn good, Crick,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming over Paul’s body but always staying for a little while longer on his name.

Having Sam looking at him like Paul’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen makes him sink even deeper, joy settling into his bones. Sam takes his time looking at him, squeezing and rubbing his thighs. Releasing one of Paul’s legs, Sam reaches down and strokes his cock, bringing himself back to full hardness.

A groan comes out of Paul’s mouth and he stares at Sam’s cock as his hole clenches, desperate to be filled back up. He’s still loose and slick from earlier, ready for Sam to just slide back in. His only purpose right now is to lie here and let Sam use him however he wants, which makes him shudder hard. Sam’s leisurely fisting his cock and he releases his other thigh as he slides three fingers into Paul’s hole, filling him up and making him let out a happy sigh as he clenches on the thick fingers.

“Still loose and slick. You want my cock so bad, don’t you? I should keep you here all the time. Just keep you tied to my bed, keep your hole stretched and lubed, ready for me to fuck whenever I want.”

Heat rushes through Paul and he whimpers. It may not be a practical suggestion, but Paul would absolutely stay here for the rest of his life if Sam wanted him to. Spending the rest of his life just existing as a source of pleasure that Sam could take from whenever he wants feels so right. Sam’s eyes darken as he stares down at Paul, probably as turned on by what he’d suggested as Paul is. Without another word, Sam presses the head of his cock against Paul’s twitching hole and slides right in, filling him up with heat and thickness, making Paul groan as his eyes drift shut. Growling softly, Sam grabs Paul’s thighs in a tight grip and starts fucking him hard, pounding deep into him as he clutches his thighs.

Paul can’t move his arms and Sam’s holding his legs, keeping him fully restrained and under Sam’s control. There’s nothing Paul can do, but that’s how he likes it. There’s nothing he has to do. All he has to do is lie here and bask in the arousal that’s sparking through him and drift in that deep, dark haze he’s in floating in while his lips stay curled in a content smile.

Sam’s groaning and breathing hard, thrusting into him hard enough that his hips are smacking against Paul’s ass and it feels amazing. From time to time, Paul tugs on the restraints with his arms and it’s always so reassuring—and arousing—when his arms can’t get loose. He never wants this to end.

Time drifts by and Sam’s thrusts sometimes slow down and sometimes speed up as he gasps and growls, his fingers digging into Paul’s thighs. Eventually, Sam’s thrusts slow way down, just little thrusts back and forth. “I’m gonna come on your stomach, Crick. Right over my name.”

Whimpering, Paul opens his eyes and his smile grows into a grin. Slowly pulling out, Sam releases Paul’s thighs and knee-walks next to him. He’s trembling and gasping for breath, his eyes wide, but Paul’s eyes are drawn by his slick, hard cock. Grabbing his cock, Sam fists it in short, hard jerks, his knees pushed against Paul’s side as he leans over him, moaning as he works his cock. Staring at it, Paul’s arousal rises even higher, desperate for Sam to cover him with his cum. His own cock is only a little stiff, but he couldn’t care less about that.

Eventually, Sam’s breath catches and long strands of warm cum shoot out of his cock, landing on Paul’s stomach and covering the black letters as they both groan. Staring down at the cum on his stomach and the black letters of Sam’s name underneath, Paul’s shaking. Sam’s marked him in two ways and it makes Paul want to cry with relief. He wants to spend the rest of his life covered in Sam’s name and Sam’s cum and Sam’s—

He catches that last thought right before it can materialize and shoves it back. He’d promised himself and Sam that he’ll never bring any of that up again. There’s no way he’ll risk losing all of this again.

Thankfully, Sam distracts him by giving him more cum, covering his stomach in the warm wetness. When Sam’s done, he releases his cock and rubs his cum into Paul’s skin, smearing it over his name as if he wants to cover every inch of Paul with it and make sure he knows who he belongs to.

Smiling and trembling, Paul watches Sam’s hands rubbing over his soft stomach, the sticky warmth of Sam’s cum adding to the arousal running through him.

“Now you look even better,” Sam says, staring down at his stomach.

Paul sighs happily. “I feel even better,” he mumbles.

Sam grins at him and bends down to kiss him hard, sliding his tongue past Paul’s lips and pressing him into the pillow. His hand that had been rubbing his cum into Paul’s stomach slides lower and wraps around his half-hard cock. It’s still sensitive and when Sam grabs it in a firm grip, sticky with his cum, Paul gasps against Sam’s lips as his hips eagerly shift, wanting Sam to stay exactly where he is.

Chuckling, Sam continues kissing him and rubs their noses together as he slowly strokes Paul’s cock. “You love being covered in my cum, don’t you? Reminds you who you belong to.”

His lips curling into a smile, Paul kisses Sam hard, trying to pour his gratitude through his kisses, wanting Sam to know how happy he is.

When Sam eventually pulls back, he glances down at Paul’s cock, which is starting to ache a bit. “I’m gonna tie your legs down and make your cock as hard as I can get it. Then I’m gonna let you stay here for a bit. I’m gonna come in whenever I want so I can play with your cock.”

Groaning, Paul nuzzles Sam’s cheek with his nose and kisses it. “I like that plan,” he whispers.

Sam pulls back and grins at him, giving his cock a squeeze that makes Paul’s toes curl. “I know you do.”

Sliding off the bed, Sam heads out of the bedroom and returns a few minutes later, holding up another pair of cuffs and more straps. As Paul watches, Sam wraps the cuffs around his ankles and ties each of his legs to the corners at the foot of the bed.

Unlike before, now Paul’s completely restrained. He can shift around a bit so his muscles aren’t being forced into just one position, but straining against the straps does nothing and he couldn’t get up even if he tried. Having Sam standing next to the bed and staring down at him while Paul’s tied to the bed, fully on display sends a jolt of heat through him and his cock throbs as he groans.

Sam grins, taking his time staring at him head to toe. “Oh, I like this. Yep, this is very good. Time to give your cock a little attention.”

Sam wraps his hand around Paul’s stiff cock and takes his time stroking it and rubbing his thumb against the slit, making Paul groan as he gets even harder and more sensitive. When he’s satisfied, Sam stands up and slowly lets his eyes run over Paul, a happy smile on his face. “Perfect, I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” Turning around, Sam walks out of the bedroom, leaving Paul where he is.

He listens as Sam walks around. There’s the sound of running water from the bathroom before Sam comes back in without even glancing at Paul as he takes clothes out of his closet and gets dressed.

And the entire time, Paul’s tied to the bed, naked and covered in Sam’s cum with Sam’s name written on his stomach while his cock throbs and it’s unbelievably arousing. Paul’s shaking and sinking deeper into his haze, loving how easily Sam is demonstrating his dominance over him.

Once Sam’s dressed, he leaves the bedroom and there are sounds from the kitchen. Then the phone rings and Sam’s voice drifts into the bedroom. “Hey, Alan. How’s it going?”

He’s on the phone. Sam’s on the phone while Paul’s tied to his bed, naked, aroused and covered in his cum. Like when Sam had pulled into the Tim Hortons drive-thru while he’d been holding Paul’s cock, having Sam acting so casually while he’s controlling Paul sends an intense surge of arousal through him and he moans loudly, straining against the tight straps keeping him bound.

Sam appears in the bedroom door, his cellphone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, that’s not great. We were at 8 meters an hour last week.”

Casually sauntering up to the bed, Sam takes his time staring at Paul’s body like he’s a mannequin in a window display. Reaching down, Sam rubs his hand over the drying cum that’s covering his name on Paul’s stomach and Paul groans. Sam glances at him and leans over to press a hand over his mouth while making noises of agreement on the phone.

Having Sam ordering him to be quiet so his co-workers don’t realize that Sam has Paul tied naked to his bed makes Paul’s eyes nearly drop shut as strong shivers run through him and his cock aches, but he catches any sounds that try to burst out of his mouth.

Taking his hand from Paul’s mouth, Sam gives him a pleased smile as he continues his conversation. “If you’ve only been trying to get through the chert for two hours, I’d argue with ‘em to give you more time. Tell ‘em tripping out will take half the day.”

As he’s talking, Sam steps over to the bedside table and uses the pump bottle of lube to coat his hands, which makes Paul’s heart race. Sam isn’t going to do what Paul thinks he’s going to do, is he? There’s no way Paul’s going to get that lucky. Sam isn’t really going to—

—but he does. Saying ‘uh huh’ into the phone, Sam rubs his slick hand over Paul’s stomach again before wrapping his hand around Paul’s cock and fisting it. He starts slow before abruptly tightening his grip and jerking him hard and fast, making Paul’s toes curl as he strains against the straps, waves of arousal shooting through him. He opens his mouth but manages to stop himself from making any noise.

Sam keeps going, maintaining a relentless pace as he fists him and Paul’s shaking hard, teetering on the edge of coming...when Sam abruptly stops moving his hand and snatches Paul’s orgasm away from under his nose. Paul presses his lips together, gasping for breath and straining against the ties keeping him bound to the bed as his cock twitches in a desperate attempt to finish what it started.

Sam’s saying more things on the phone and gently rubbing the back of a finger up and down Paul’s aching cock as Paul slowly calms. But before he’s fully settled again, Sam wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking him again, rubbing a thumb across his slit and jerking him hard enough that Paul’s breaths are coming out in short, hard bursts and tears are brimming his eyes. His toes are tightly curled and hands are clenched into fists as he desperately tries to prevent himself from coming or making noise.

“Uh huh. Well, if the drill bit’s shot, then a few more hours won’t make a difference, right? But if the bit’s good, you might make it through and you won’t waste half a day tripping out.”

Nothing about Sam’s tone gives away that he’s busy tormenting Paul at the same time. He continues his conversation while his hand alternates between torturing and soothing Paul over and over again, only releasing his cock when he re-lubes his hand. Tears are streaming down Paul’s face and he’s so tense and turned on that he knows he’s just moments away from losing the battle to follow Sam’s order to stay quiet and not to come.

Sam fisting his cock again, stroking him hard and bringing right back to that edge that he’s been balancing on the edge of for ages—before he stops again. But this time, he holds the phone between his shoulder and cheek so he can reach out with his other hand and wipe the tears off Paul’s face as Paul desperately nuzzles his hand, wanting to come but also wanting to continue for eternity.

Sam’s smiling at him, his eyes sparkling. Pulling the phone away from his ear and holding it up into the air, Sam bends down and kisses his panting lips before whispering into his ear: “I’m so proud of you. I’m gonna let you come soon, just hold on a little while longer.”

Hearing how proud Sam is and how awed he sounds by how well Paul’s doing makes him even more determined to keep being good. Sam takes him back and forth from the edge a few more times as he continues his conversation.

Finally—“Yeah, okay, you too, Alan….Yep…okay, bye.”

Paul’s barely aware of Sam hanging up the phone before Sam’s fisting him hard again and as Paul approaches that cliff for the millionth time, Sam doesn’t stop and jerks him harder.

“You can come now, Crick. Lemme see you come.”

Relief floods him and within seconds, Paul’s coming, his hips thrusting up into Sam’s warm fist as much as he can while Sam groans and jerks his cock hard.

It seems to last forever and Paul doesn’t notice when Sam releases him. Paul’s left trembling and staring up at the ceiling, tears still running down his face. When he manages to glance down, Sam’s nuzzling his stomach, kissing the black letters of his name, covered in cum.

When Paul catches his eye, Sam grins and slides up to his face, covering him in soft kisses and gently wiping away his tears. “You did so good! I’m so damn proud of you! Fuck, I can’t believe how amazing that was.”

Paul grins, exhausted but deliriously happy. “That was awesome,” he mumbles, his lips feeling numb.

Sam pulls back and he’s still smiling, but he looks a little worried. “Yeah? You really liked doing that?”

“Oh, yeah. I loved everything about it.”

Bending down, Sam goes back to covering his face in kisses. “You’re the most amazing person in the universe and I’m the luckiest person in the universe.”

Paul feels a lump growing in his throat as he presses his nose against Sam’s cheek. “That makes two of us,” he whispers.

* * *

Sam can’t believe how incredible he’s feeling. He wants both of them to quit their jobs and spend the rest of their lives living in Sam’s apartment—or Paul’s, he’s not picky—and stay in this wonderful bubble they’ve created.

He’s never been very motivated to come up with new ways to make his subs happy, but being with Paul fills him with so much excitement that Sam’s brain is churning, wanting to come up with millions of new things they can do together that will make both of them feel good.

And the fact that Paul has settled right back into accepting Sam as his dom fills Sam with intense pride and gratitude. Really, it shouldn’t surprise him that being with Paul is different from any other sub he’s ever scened with. They love each other, not just as lovers, but as friends too. They both want to make the other person happy, and seeing Paul’s joy fills Sam with equal happiness.

Once Paul’s calmed down, Sam undoes the straps keeping him tied to the bed. Paul looks a little unhappy about that, but Sam distracts him by kissing him hard and telling him to keep the cuffs on. “I’m gonna lock your wrists and ankles together and you’re gonna get those Timbits I promised you.”

That brings the smile right back to Paul’s face and he eagerly follows Sam out into the living room.

Grabbing some carabiner clips from his box of equipment, the TV remote and the box of donut holes, Sam gestures for Paul to kneel down in front of the couch and tells him to put his hands behind his back.

Paul’s smiling that beautiful smile that always makes Sam’s heart skip a beat as he kneels down exactly where Sam told him to.

Kneeling down on the carpet behind him, Sam clips the D-rings on the wrist cuffs together, watching Paul’s arms tense as he tugs on them, before letting out a soft, happy sigh and slumping when he can’t move them.

Clipping Paul’s ankles together too, Sam checks that they’re not too tight before he steps around Paul and sits down on the couch. Staring at Paul, Sam lets his eyes linger on the dry cum and his name written on Paul’s stomach and adrenaline surges through him again. Grabbing Paul’s face, Sam kisses him. “You look so good. You comfortable?”

Paul nods, his eyes shining. “Yeah.”

Making himself comfortable on the couch, Sam spreads his legs. “Come here.”

Shuffling forward on his knees, Paul stops when he’s bracketed by Sam’s thighs and he bends down, nuzzling Sam’s sweatpants-covered legs. Wrapping his hands around Paul’s head, Sam massages the back of his neck and his head, keeping Paul’s head pressed against Sam’s thigh.

Paul lets out a soft moan and his eyes close, slowly sinking back into subspace. Sam won’t push him too deep; he’ll just let him go a little under, just enough for Paul to forget about the rest of the world while Sam takes care of him.

It makes him feel so damn powerful to think that Paul’s in a very vulnerable position right now—he’s naked, his hands and ankles are restrained and he’s kneeling between the safe walls of Sam’s legs—and he’d put himself into this position because he enjoys it and he fully trusts Sam to protect him.

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you? My amazing Crick. You’re so happy kneeling between my legs. We’re gonna relax here for a while,” Sam murmurs, his voice rough with adrenaline and the intense emotions he’s feeling.

When Paul’s settled completely, Sam takes one of his hands off his head and opens the box of Timbits. Fishing out one of the sticky, honey covered donut holes, he brings it to Paul’s face. “Open up. I got a Timbit for you.”

Paul’s eyes open a sliver and he smiles at the sweet treat between Sam’s fingers. Opening his mouth, Paul waits and Sam carefully holds the spherical donut against his lips, waiting patiently. Paul takes a small bite and chews, little bits of sticky sugar clinging to his lips. Once he’s swallowed, he opens his mouth again and Sam gently pushes the other half into his mouth. When Paul’s lips have closed and he’s chewing, Sam brushes the sugar off his lips, watching him enjoying his treat.

“You want another?” Sam asks.

Paul nods, his head still leaning against Sam’s thigh.

Digging through the box, Sam takes out another one and brings it to Paul.

Despite the remote sitting next to him and the box containing a few donut holes for Sam, turning on the television or eating his own donuts are the further things from his mind. He can’t stop staring at Paul and his heart keeps glowing as he watches Paul smiling and peacefully kneeling between his legs, completely relaxed. The trust Paul is putting into Sam makes his breath catch.

Adrenaline continues racing through him as he carefully monitors every shift of Paul’s body, every movement of his jaw, every slow blink, ready to do whatever necessary to keep Paul feeling safe and relaxed.

* * *

Paul has no idea how much time goes by. He eats countless honey dipped donuts, floating happily between Sam’s strong legs as Sam rubs his hair, feeds him donuts and gently wipes his mouth for him.

When he’s eaten enough donuts, Sam undoes the clips and has Paul lie down on the couch with his head on Sam’s lap. Paul dozes as Sam keeps one hand wrapped around him and they watch television.

Occasionally, Sam’s hand drifts lower to curl around Paul’s soft cock, which always makes Paul moan and roll onto his back as he spreads his legs wide. Sam always keeps his grip loose, not wanting to arouse him. He’s just doing it because it’s something they both love.

Eventually, Sam always lets go to rub over his name on Paul’s stomach before he changes channels or answers his cellphone, but before long, his hand is back on Paul’s cock, holding him in that firm, reassuring grip.

Paul has no idea what plays on the television and he couldn’t care less. He’s much more interested in focusing on what Sam’s doing and how Sam’s making him feel.


	10. Chapter 10

Later that evening, Paul has a shower and he can’t stop smiling down at Sam’s name written on his stomach. Sadly, Sam’s cum has washed away, but the writing hasn’t. From past experience, he knows the writing will survive about two weeks before it’s too faded to be legible.

Tracing the letters of Sam’s name, Paul shivers beneath the warm spray of the water, smiling softly. But as Paul looks over the rest of his body, he can’t help but make a face. Having Sam’s name on one little part of his body isn’t enough. If that’s all Sam wants to do, then he’ll live with it. But if Sam’s willing to do more…?

Once he’s out of the shower, he pads naked around the apartment and quickly finds what he’s looking for. Clutching the black permanent marker, he heads into the bedroom, where Sam’s already in bed, the covers pulled down on Paul’s side.

Standing in the doorway, Paul stares at Sam. There’s that old anxiety sitting heavy in his gut; that worry that Sam won’t like what Paul will ask and he’ll leave. But Sam’s promised him countless times that he won’t do that again and Sam was very enthusiastic about writing his name on Paul’s stomach. Plus, Sam had spent tons of time looking at his name on Paul’s stomach today.

Sam’s frowning at him as Paul stands in the doorway, having his internal debate. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

Paul chews on his lip, the marker clutched behind his back.

“Crick, talk to me.”

He wants to, he really does. But once again, fear is keeping his words trapped in his throat.

His frown deepening, Sam gets out of bed and comes closer to him. Gently putting his hands on Paul’s face, Sam searches his face, his eyes filled with worry. “You want me to drive you home?”

Paul shakes his head frantically. God no. Sam’s way off.

“You want me to get a cab to take you?”

Once again, Paul shakes his head, but Sam’s still stuck on this specific train of thought. “You want me to sleep on the couch? I don’t mind. I want you to feel comfortable.”

Sighing softly, Paul keeps shaking his head. Sam will never guess it and Paul’s being unfair. Sure, some of his anxiety might be Sam’s fault, but Sam’s trying really hard and Paul’s not meeting him halfway. Not even a quarter. Deciding to just get it over with, Paul wordlessly holds up the marker between them.

Sam’s first reaction is a confused frown—he was probably still worried over Paul wanting to leave—but his frown quickly clears and it’s replaced with a soft smile. “You want me to write my name on other parts of you?”

Paul nods, his smile returning as he mirrors Sam’s. “Yeah. But only if you want to.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Sam plucks the marker out of Paul’s hands. “If I want to—Jesus. Get on the bed, Becker.”

Grinning and his heart racing with joy, Paul hurries to the bed and lies down, making himself comfortable on the pillow and planting his feet on the bed as he spreads his knees wide. It’s his usual position when Sam’s marking him and he doesn’t even think about it as he’s arranging himself.

Sam’s eyes flare with heat and his fist tightens around the black marker as he stares at Paul. “An—” Sam’s voice cracks, forcing him to clear his throat a few times before he tries again. “Anywhere in particular you want me to mark you?”

Paul’s grin is making his jaw sore. “The same places you always marked me. They’ve always belonged to you—I just haven’t had your name written on them in a long time.”

A muscle twitches in Sam’s jaw. “Well, we better fix that.”

“Yup.”

Crawling onto the bed, Sam makes himself comfortable between Paul’s legs, rubbing his thighs and drinking him in. He rubs a hand through the sparse hair on Paul’s chest and sighs, his eyes shining.

Paul waits patiently, adoring the way Sam’s staring at him. Finally, Sam lets out a deep, content sigh and slides his hand from his chest to his ribs on his left side. Sam bends down to kiss the patch of skin he’s chosen, softly nuzzling it before he uncaps the marker and leans his arms on Paul as he carefully starts writing. As always, he forms each letter with careful deliberation, stretching Paul’s skin so he can write as clearly as possible.

Paul barely breathes, watching Sam frown with concentration as the cool, wet tip of the marker drags across his skin.

When Sam’s done, he leans back. After inspecting his name, he smiles softly. “One down, many more to go.”

Staring down at the black letters on his ribs, Paul lets out a soft groan.

Sam glances up at him. “Okay?”

That question doesn’t require any thinking. “Very, very okay.”

His smile growing into a grin again, Sam bends down and gets to work on his right side too.

Paul lets himself drift, keeping his arms sprawled out on the mattress as Sam carefully writes his name all over him. His stomach gets a few more, his chest gets several and his thighs get covered too. Sam nudges him this way and that, closing his legs to write on the outside and writing on his calves and shins before he gets to more intimate areas.

His arms are already splayed out and Sam prints his name on the inside of his arms, right next to his arm pits. Even though it’ll be winter for several more months and Paul won’t be in public in just a short-sleeved shirt, it seems Sam is maintaining the same habit they’d always used and not writing his name anywhere that other people might see, no matter what Paul’s wearing.

Eventually, Sam flips him over and writes his name all over Paul’s back and both of his ass cheeks, which makes Paul grin. He’d always loved stripping naked when he was home alone and standing in front of the bathroom mirror and seeing Sam’s name all over his back too.

While Sam’s writing on his ass, Paul realizes Sam’s following the same order he always had and that fills him with excitement. He’d been wondering if Sam will label his favourite area but he hadn’t wanted to push him.

But when Sam’s flipped him back over and done with the ticklish bottoms of his feet, he slides back up and presses Paul’s legs apart, grinning down at the soft skin on the inside of his thighs.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Paul clenches his fists, staring at Sam as he nuzzles the sensitive skin and slowly writes his name. The insides of his thighs have always been Paul’s favourite place for being marked. It always filled him with such joy to spread his thighs apart and make himself feel vulnerable, and having Sam’s name appearing there made it a thousand times better.

Sam’s hands are shaking a bit, but he stops between each letter, taking deep breaths and calming himself down before he continues writing, not allowing his excitement to impact his marking. Watching Sam marking him in such an intimate place abruptly brings back memories of so many horrible nights when Paul had dreamt that Sam was marking him—only to wake up and not see Sam anywhere and the insides of his thighs bare when he spread them. It had made him feel so alone and unloved.

But now, Sam’s right here, frowning in concentration as he puts his name back on his skin, right where it belongs; declaring that Paul belongs to him. He’s back to being Sam’s—to be loved and protected and taken care of. Paul’s throat tightens as the cool marker gently pulls over his skin, leaving wet streaks that will right a wrong that he’s lived with for twenty years. The emotions are overwhelming and tears well up in his eyes. His cock is fully hard and it’s throbbing, but Paul’s heart is easily overpowering that arousal with its own intense emotions.

When Sam’s done marking both of his thighs, he sits up and smiles, capping the marker and tossing it away. “There. Things are officially back to the way they’re supposed to be,” Sam says, a satisfied smile on his face.

Paul’s shaking as he looks down at himself. Everywhere he looks, Sam’s written his name, having officially taken back ownership of Paul’s body.

On his stomach: _Sam’s._

On his arms: _Sam’s._

On his thighs: _Sam’s._

On his feet: _Sam’s._

Sam rubs Paul’s thighs and bends down to kiss the black letters on Paul’s thighs, before he moves down to kiss his name on other parts of Paul’s legs. After his legs, Sam moves up and kisses his stomach and his arms, nuzzling the letters and sealing them with his lips.

Looking up, Sam smiles at him. “Happy?”

“That’s an understatement,” Paul whispers in a faint voice, his heart racing with joy.

Sam’s smile changes into a grin and he kisses his way up Paul’s chest to his lips, kissing him hard. “I’m happy too,” he whispers against Paul’s lips.

Paul happily sinks into Sam’s kisses, his entire body tingling.

Climbing off him, Sam gently nudges Paul over onto his side and pulls the blanket up over them. Paul lets himself be arranged as Sam slides right up behind him, pressing his chest and cock against Paul’s back and ass, declaring his claim over Paul in yet another way.

Wrapping an arm around him, Sam’s hand immediately slides down Paul’s stomach, stopping to rub over his stomach before wrapping around his hard cock, sending another surge of heat through Paul and making him whimper softly.

Sam kisses his shoulder. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Paul shivers when he realizes Sam won’t get him off and he smiles. Instead of making him feel annoyed, having Sam make that decision makes his cock ache even more where it’s held within Sam’s warm hand.

As Sam relaxes against him, Paul basks in the relief that’s washing over him. Everything is perfect. Sam’s right up against him, his cock is pressed to Paul’s ass and his hand is holding Paul’s cock, having decided that he doesn’t get to come tonight. And even better, Sam’s name is written all over him.

Paul’s no longer alone, adrift in a cold, dark world and suffering with his empty skin. Instead, he’s back to being Sam’s. Every part of him, from head to toe, from his heart to his soul—he’s being the person he always felt happiest being. The person he feels most right being.

_Sam’s._

* * *

The rest of the week is the happiest of Paul’s life. While they’d had amazing weeks before, everything feels different now. Everything’s more intense: his joy, his arousal, his relief. And mixed in with everything else is gratitude for getting this gift back. The old saying that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone is really true. Paul knows what it’s like not to have Sam in his life and that makes him appreciate every second they have together even more than before.

After Paul does his shopping and goes to the Gibson library to pick up some new books for himself, Sam grabs everything he’ll need from his apartment and they head back to Wiley. Sam brings his box of straps, cuffs and toys and they attach the straps to Paul’s bed, making them a permanent part of Paul’s bedroom.

They spend every minute of every day together with Sam keeping Paul company when he works shifts in the store or works on vehicles. They cook together, eat together, watch television together, work on cars together, help customers together and of course, they have lots and lots of sex together.

Leah still treats Sam a little coldly despite Sam being uncharacteristically polite to her, but she tolerates his constant presence without making a fuss. One day, she waits until Sam’s gone out to help a tourist who can’t figure out how to use the gas pump before she gives Paul a long look. “I’ve known you for ten years and I’ve never seen you smile this much. I’m not too happy with what the two of you are doing, but if he keeps you smiling like that, then I’ll put up with it.”

Her words are rude, but Paul knows it’s as close to expressing her support for their relationship as he’s ever going to get. Besides, he’s way too busy enjoying life to care about Leah’s opinions.

* * *

“Can you grab me a new bottle of coolant?” Paul asks, his fingers covered in grease as he’s bent over beneath the hood of a truck.

“Yup.”

A minute later, the jug appears next to Paul and he unscrews the lid to fill the coolant tank of the engine. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Shoving the plastic funnel into the mouth of the tank, Paul slowly pours in the fluid.

“Hey, Crick?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still skate?”

It’s a surprising question. Over the last few days, they’d discussed hockey a little bit. They both still follow their province’s professional hockey team, but as far as Paul knows, that’s the only aspect of hockey that’s still a part of their lives.

Paul hasn’t played hockey in years. He knows there are tons of beer leagues in Gibson, but the idea of playing hockey again had always made him remember playing with Sam for all those years and the memories would have been too painful. Not only had he and Sam played on almost every team together from the time they were old enough to totter around in skates, but they had been defence partners for most of their playing careers. Working as one unit on the ice had probably been a big part of why they had settled so well into being one unit off the ice too.

But those are all sad answers and Paul doesn’t want to bring the mood down. He does skate from time to time, but that has nothing to do with hockey. When he’d made the decision to leave Gibson—and his memories of Sam—behind, he’d thrown out most of his hockey gear, but he’d kept his skates. It had taken years before he’d been strong enough to strap his skates on and skate around Green Lake, reliving the years of memories of him and Sam racing around the ice when they were younger and their families had often driven out to the lake to spend the day skating and roasting marshmallows on an open fire.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he says, in answer to Sam’s question.

“Yeah?” Sam sounds strangely hopeful.

Straightening up, Paul hands Sam the coolant jug and reaches for the rag in his pocket to wipe his hands while Sam screws the lid back on. “Yeah, sometimes I grab my skates and head over to Green Lake.”

That brings a smile to Sam’s face. “You wanna go skating with me?”

Paul’s heart skips a beat and a smile immediately spreads over his face. Being on the ice with Sam has always been one of his favourite activities and now that they’re back together, it won’t be as painful as it used to be. “You still skate?”

Sam shrugs. “I still play too.”

That makes Paul’s eyebrows fly up. “Really?”

“Yep. I play on a casual rec team in Gibson. We meet up once a week and play a game.”

Paul’s glad Sam isn’t asking him if he’d like to participate, because he doesn’t know how he feels about it. He’s hoping skating with Sam again will be nice, but maybe it’ll bring back too many bad feelings. And playing hockey with Sam would be a whole other thing. But he’s willing to take things one step at a time. “You wanna head over to Green tomorrow morning?”

Sam’s eyes are shining as he grins. “Sure! I’ll head to Gibson today to grab my gear.”

“Okay.”

* * *

As they’re putting their stuff together the next morning to head to Green Lake, Paul notices Sam seems nervous. He keeps fidgeting and sliding his hands in and out of his pockets.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asks him, frowning. “We don’t have to go skating if you don’t wanna.”

Sam looks nervous and he’s shifting his jaw as he stares at him. “Would you mind if I bring a stick with me?”

Paul chuckles. “You can bring whatever you want. But if you’re gonna bring pucks, I’m not gonna wade through three feet of snow to find them for you if you shoot them off into the bush.”

That makes Sam laugh and probably remember the many times when they’d been younger and pucks had been hard to come by and they had no choice but to dig through the snow drifts on the lake’s edge to find any pucks that had gone astray. But then Sam’s smile fades again and he looks nervous.

Sighing softly, Paul gives him a reassuring smile. He thinks he knows what Sam’s worried about. “If you wanna ask me something, just ask.”

That seems to be the opening Sam was waiting for. “I really miss playing with you. I know…I don’t deserve to ask and it’s selfish as hell and—”

Reaching over, Paul covers Sam’s mouth with his hand. “Stop. No guilt, remember? What’s done is done. I gotta be honest; I don’t know how I feel about playing again. But we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

A small, relieved smile appears on Sam’s face when Paul removes his hand. “Okay.”

Now that Paul knows that Sam is excited about the idea of playing around on the ice like they used to, he’s getting excited about it too. “You got a spare stick?”

His smile growing bigger, Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get them into my truck and let’s go.”

* * *

It’s surreal to be sitting next to Sam, doing up his skates. They’re sitting on the same old log that’s served as the lake’s bench for decades, they’re sitting side by side and doing up their skates like they have a thousand times before and the same frozen lake is sprawled out in front of them, waiting for them to step on it. Paul keeps flashing back and forth in time and focusing on lacing up his skates with his shaking hands is the only thing that keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Maybe Sam can sense his emotions because he abruptly releases his own laces and slides over, bumping into Paul and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Pressing his face against Paul’s, Sam kisses his cheek.

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too hard, Crick,” he whispers. “I know this is weird.”

Paul’s shaking but leaning against Sam’s solid body helps a little bit. “That’s the problem. I think I’ll really like it, but it’s a little overwhelming.”

“There’s a lot of memories tied up with us and being on the ice, eh?”

Nodding, Paul takes a shaky breath as Sam rubs his arm and kisses his face gently, his lips a nice warm contrast to the cool breeze blowing over the frozen lake and numbing Paul’s cheeks. Turning his face into Sam’s face, Paul takes a deep breath of cold air, calming himself down as Sam’s breath warms his cheeks.

Sam’s right here. If Paul gets overwhelmed or if he doesn’t want to do this, Sam will help him. Paul’s no longer on his own, having to depend on just himself for help. Pulling back, Paul gives Sam a small smile, wanting to ease the worried frown on Sam’s face. “Let’s get our skates done up and get out there.”

Smiling, Sam pulls back and squeezes Paul’s thigh before going back to tightening his own laces.

Once their skates are done up, Sam grabs his stick and they carefully walk through the snow until they reach the ice. By unspoken agreement, Sam doesn’t pressure Paul to grab his own stick. Paul’s not ready for that yet.

Stepping onto the slick surface, Paul glides over the ice as he pulls his toque over his ears, his blades rattling over the rough bumps marring the frozen surface. He’d always enjoyed skating out in nature, but no matter how beautiful and freeing it is, he’ll always prefer the smooth, well maintained ice sheet of a rink.

Without speaking, they push away from the edge of the lake and slowly glide across the ice, their eyes scanning the ice beneath their feet and around them, looking for any dark patches that might spell trouble. The government regularly sends out people to test the ice throughout the winter and there hadn’t been any warning signs put up, but doing a quick check had been drilled into their heads since they were young.

They do a slow circuit across the part of the lake they want to skate on and Paul’s attention is focused on the ice so he completely forgets he’s skating next to Sam until they’ve done their check and Sam stops by the bench to grab a puck.

Standing on the ice with the heel of his blade dug into the ice, Paul watches Sam rummage through his bag, his hockey stick stuck into the snow next to the log. It’s a familiar sight and thankfully, it just makes Paul smile. When Sam finds a puck, he tosses it onto the ice and grabs his stick before stepping back onto the ice.

They move across the lake, their blades carving into the ice and their breath misting up in the cold air. There’s also the scrape of Sam’s wooden hockey stick blade dragging across the ice and the soft rattling sound of the rubber puck being pushed along by Sam’s stick.

Paul can’t stop staring at Sam as he casually moves the puck back and forth, using the blade of his stick to toss the puck left and right in front of him. Sam’s looking around at the lake and his hands are doing the movements so naturally; the stick blade never missing the puck as it moves it around, despite Sam’s eyes not being on it. It’s an exercise they’d spent years perfecting and it’s one they were taught to do when they were old enough to hold sticks for the first time. It brings Paul right back to when he and Sam had learned how to skate on this very lake.

He remembers being small and chunky and skating right next to an equally small and chunky Sam, both of them tottering around on their first pair of skates, bundled up in snow gear and little wooden sticks in their hands that they used as crutches to stay balanced while their dads skated alongside them, urging them to glide more and push with their feet more and not lean so damn much on the sticks.

One of their moms had the idea to toss a puck onto the ice and that had attracted both Paul and Sam’s attentions and they’d gone scampering after it, slipping, stumbling and shuffling after it as they competed to be the first to get to the puck and give it a little push with their stick and listen to their dads cheering and their moms clapping from the log bench.

“What are you smiling at, Becker?” Sam asks, his voice pulling Paul from his memories.

Paul grins at him, watching Sam easily moving the puck around with his stick and gliding along so effortlessly, a far cry from the little Sam in his memories. “Just remembering that we used to be pretty bad at this when we were little.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, I remember that. But we ended up being pretty good at it.”

They skate around and Paul finds his hands itching to hold a stick in his hands. “I’ll be right back.”

Taking off across the ice, he heads to the log bench and steps through the snow to where Sam had put his spare stick. Grabbing it, he steps back on the ice and skates back to Sam, his hands immediately wrapping around the familiar shape of the stick. He’s barely aware of getting closer to Sam as his hands manoeuvre the blade over the ice, his hands twisting and turning the stick as easily as if he’d last done this yesterday, not decades ago.

Sam’s grinning when Paul comes up to him. “Muscle memory coming back, eh?”

Paul smiles, but it’s a cautious smile. “We’ll see.”

Using the tip of his stick blade, Paul pulls the puck away from Sam and tosses it back and forth, the familiar thunk of the puck hitting his blade taking him right back in time. Not only does it feel soothing and familiar, but Sam’s standing right in front of him, relaxed and happy. His grin grows and he scoops up the puck with his stick and pushes off, gliding across the ice. “Come on, Deacon. Put me through my paces and we’ll see how much I remember.”

Sam’s grin widens even more and he hurries to catch up with him. When they’re side by side, Sam smacks the blade of his stick on the ice, a sound that brings Paul right back to thousands of hockey games they’d played together. Sam’s letting him know he’s open and he’s calling for the puck.

Glancing at where Sam is, Paul mentally adjusts for their speed and Sam’s position before flicking the puck towards him, hearing the satisfying thud as the puck connects with Sam’s blade.

“Not bad, Becker.”

Moving his eyes back and forth between where he’s skating and where Sam is, Paul waits until Sam sends the puck back towards him, the puck sliding across the ice on a perfect trajectory that makes it connect with Paul’s blade without him even having to adjust to catch it.

Paul flicks the puck back and forth between his blade a few times before sending it back towards Sam, who catches it and sends it back towards him, putting a bit more power behind the pass and it hits Paul’s blade with a satisfying thud.

“That one had a little more grease on it, eh?” Paul calls over, grinning as his heart glows in his chest.

Sam laughs. “You’ve still got it so I’m not gonna take it too easy on you. You tell me when you want me to slow down.”

Paul deliberately puts more power behind his next pass, enjoying the satisfying sound as it connects with Sam’s stick. “You’re still two months older than me, so don’t worry about me, old man. You just worry about keeping up with us young ones.”

Sam’s laughter makes Paul’s grin grow even bigger. He can’t believe how much fun he’s having and how amazing this feels.


	11. Chapter 11

Paul’s sprawled out on the bed in one of his favourite positions: naked, wearing his wrist and ankle cuffs and his hands and feet tied down with the cargo straps.

He’d done the early shift at the store and there’s nothing to work on in the shop, which meant it was the perfect time to go upstairs and have sex with Sam. Sadly, tomorrow Sam will be going back into the bush for two weeks, but so far they haven’t talked about that.

Sam had tied him down a few hours ago and had teased him with the vibrating plug for a while before he’d fucked him. Once they’d finished, Sam had helped Paul drink some water and he’d gone to cook them dinner, while leaving Paul strapped to the bed, still hard and aching to come. He’s waiting for Sam to come back inside to play with his cock or straddle his chest and let Paul suck on the tip of his cock, when Paul hears Sam’s phone ring. Paul eagerly waits for Sam to come into the bedroom to play with Paul while he’s on the phone, but it sadly doesn’t happen.

It’s disappointing, but on the other hand, that’s just another way that Sam’s reminding him without a word that he’s in charge and Paul isn’t. Sam decides how they play, not Paul. And that makes Paul’s cock twitch, even while Sam’s chatting on the phone and cooking in the kitchen.

Eventually, Paul hears Sam say goodbye and he appears in the doorway. “That was the boss.”

“Hmm. How did the other shift do?”

Sam saunters up to the bed, staring at Paul’s naked body, his eyes lingering on Paul’s stiff cock and his name written all over Paul’s skin as a satisfied smile appears on his face. “They finished drilling the well. They’re gonna do the rig move tonight and get set up at the new site tomorrow morning before I get up there.”

Paul smiles, knowing that’s good news. “Oh, you’re gonna miss the whole rig move. Poor you.”

Snorting, Sam climbs on the bed and rubs his hands over Paul’s stomach and chest. “Yeah, I’m crushed. Don’t know how I’ll survive the disappointment.”

Moaning softly at Sam’s warm hands on him, Paul relaxes, letting Sam touch him however he wants. “So where’s the new well? Still up Clark?”

Bending down, Sam nuzzles his stomach and kisses the letters of his name. “Yup, but further in. Kilometre one-thirty-seven.”

Sam’s not making any move to touch Paul’s cock and that usually means Sam wants to chat some more, which is good. No matter how much he loves having sex with Sam, their relationship has always been based on more than that. “So how did your well do? Did they finish the testing?”

Sam’s moved down to Paul’s thighs, kissing and rubbing them. “Yup, it was a dud.”

“Big surprise, eh?”

Snorting, Sam’s moving down to Paul’s feet. “Yep. Shocker.”

Between him and Sam, they had drilled hundreds of wells and only a handful of them ever ended up producing, which is all part of the big money gamble that is the oil patch.

Sam’s still talking. “But I got my money in the bank, so I don’t care. I drilled them a beautiful hole. The fact that it was dry at the bottom isn’t my fault.”

Paul smirks and decides to pull out an old but good joke. “Yeah, you’ve always been really good at drilling holes.”

That makes Sam laugh—as it always did—and he lifts his head, his eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to know you still appreciate my hole drilling talents.”

Paul’s smile widens and he wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ve always appreciated them. Speaking of which, I wouldn’t mind another demonstration. Unfortunately, I can’t pay your hourly rate the way the big bosses can.”

Sam’s grin turns into a smirk and he leans over to unclip Paul’s ankle cuffs and grab the bottle of lube that’s lying on the bed. “That’s alright. This hole is one I’m always happy to drill for free.”

Paul laughs, but that quickly turns into a drawn-out groan as Sam slicks up his cock and slides right back into him.

* * *

That evening, they have to face the reality that Sam will be leaving tomorrow morning and he’ll be gone for 14 long days.

Sam’s pressed up against him, holding Paul’s cock as they lie in the darkness while Paul’s stomach is in knots. Even though he knows Sam will be back in two weeks, he’s still dreading being alone again. No matter how sure he is that Sam will come back, there’s a small part of him that’s still scared the time away will change Sam’s mind about the whole thing. Adding to that anxiety is the ugly sadness that he won’t have Sam around, and that’s always made him feel like he’s missing half of himself.

He wants to beg Sam to stay so badly that he has to keep his lips pressed together so the words stay in his mouth. It wouldn’t be fair to pressure Sam and really, Paul’s a grown man. He can last two weeks without Sam. Two weeks in, one week out had always been a normal part of their lives during the drilling season.

Letting out a long breath, Sam nuzzles his neck and rubs his thumb over Paul’s cock. “I don’t wanna go,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, Paul swallows the urge to tell him that he shouldn’t go. If Sam wanted to quit his job, he would have said something days ago, but he’d treated his upcoming shift the same as he always had. Two weeks in, one week out has always been part of a driller’s life.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Paul whispers back. “We’ve done this a thousand times before.”

“That’s true. We even have cellphones now. I can call you after every shift and we can stay on the phone until my next shift.”

That’s not going to be the same, but Paul refuses to turn into a whiny, desperate child. If he lets on that Sam leaving is filling him with dread and sadness, Sam will feel guilty and he’ll stay just to make him feel better. And that might be fine once, but eventually, Sam would start resenting Paul for being so needy. So no, Sam has to go. And Paul has to put on a brave smile and swallow the apprehension twisting in his gut. “Phone calls are gonna be good,” he says softly.

Sam squeezes his cock. He’s probably doing it to be reassuring, but all Paul can think about is that Sam’s only going to be holding his cock for a few more hours and then Paul will spend two weeks without Sam’s hand on him.

“I’m gonna wake you up early tomorrow,” Sam whispers, his voice rough. “I’m gonna re-write my name all over you so the letters stay nice and fresh the whole time I’m gone. Then I’m gonna fuck you and fill you up with my cum and then I’m gonna suck you off. I’ll make it so damn good that you’ll feel my cock in your ass and my mouth on your cock the whole time I’m gone.”

Shivering, Paul smiles. That’ll be wonderful. It’ll stop being wonderful when Sam’s gone, but Paul has to focus on the part that’ll be wonderful. He’ll deal with the rest later.

* * *

Sam’s incredibly torn about going back out into the bush. He can tell Paul’s putting on a brave front and it’s no mystery why he’s working so hard. Paul doesn’t want to pressure Sam into quitting his job for him. It’s something Sam really appreciates because he would absolutely tell his job or anybody else to go to hell if Paul needs him to stay by his side. The intensity of his desire to do anything to make Paul happy is overwhelming and Paul must know that.

Sam’s never really thought about not going back to work. Living the two weeks in, one week out routine during the drilling season has been part of his life for years and it didn’t even occur to him until a few days ago that he doesn’t have to keep doing it if he doesn’t want to. But he has no idea how much of his desire to stay home is because it’s something he really wants to do versus being something he’d only be doing for Paul. And just doing it for Paul won’t be healthy in the long run.

The whole thing is confusing. It’s made much worse by the fear that Sam can sometimes see on Paul’s face. Even though he hasn’t put his fear into words, Sam knows a part of Paul is terrified that he won’t come back. Once again, that’s part of the darkness Paul’s carried with him since Sam left him twenty years ago. But Paul had been very adamant that he doesn’t want Sam doing anything because of guilt.

So he’ll go out into the bush, do his two weeks, miss Paul desperately every second of every day and maybe he’ll re-evaluate his entire work situation once he’s done his shift.

* * *

The next morning, Paul does his best to keep a smile on his face. He happily splays out on the bed as Sam carefully re-writes his name all over him, marking him with the black permanent marker as he frowns with intense concentration. Having Sam’s name on him will definitely help and it used to be enough to get him through the two weeks, so hopefully it’ll work this time around too.

They wake up early enough that Sam can spend an hour fucking him. He keeps Paul on his front with his hands tied behind his back and his knees spread wide as Sam fucks him, holding the clip keeping Paul’s wrists tied together with Paul’s face is pressed against the mattress. Then Sam brings him up on his knees and pulls Paul up against him with Paul’s bound hands caught between them as Sam fucks him slowly, one arm wrapped across Paul’s chest and the other holding his cock.

Sam keeps moaning in his ear, kissing his neck and squeezing his cock. “You feel so good, Crick. Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.”

Paul’s eyes are closed and he lets out a whimper, that sadness slowly creeping back into his heart.

Maybe sensing Paul’s sadness, Sam grabs his chin and pulls his head down. “Open your eyes.”

Obeying Sam, Paul looks down as Sam releases his cock and rubs his hand over his name written on Paul’s chest and his stomach. “You see my name? That means you belong to me. It doesn’t matter where I am, you’re still mine. I’ve never written my name on anybody else because they weren’t important enough to me. But you are.”

Sliding his hand down to Paul’s thigh, he rubs the sensitive skin, right next to his balls and his aching cock, making Paul stare at Sam’s name written on the inside of his thigh, the stark black letters standing out in the dim light of the bedroom. As arousing as it is, Sam’s words don’t help that much. Sure, he understands that Sam’s never written his name on anybody else before…but having marked Paul didn’t stop him from leaving last time, did it? It had taken weeks for the letters to fade completely and seeing them slowly vanish with the knowledge that they’d never be re-done had added to Paul’s pain.

Growling softly, Sam grabs Paul’s cock and jerks him hard, rubbing his thumb over the slit and thrusting into him, filling him up and pushing his arousal up again. As sparks race through him, Paul moans, his hands tied between his back and his knees spread wide to give his cock and ass to Sam. There’s nothing Paul can do except kneel there, letting Sam use his body to make both of them feel good.

Having Sam fisting his cock hard drives those sad thoughts out of his head and he’s on the verge of coming before Sam slows down again, squeezing the base of his cock and slowing his thrusts. Once Paul’s been pulled back from the edge, Sam starts again, winding him up before pulling him back.

It lasts forever until Sam finally comes deep inside of him with a long groan, filling him with warm cum. When he’s done, he keeps them still, keeping his arm across Paul’s chest and clutching his throbbing cock as he gasps against his shoulder, still buried inside of him.

“You feel my cum, Crick?”

Paul manages to nod. “Uh huh,” he mumbles in a shaky voice.

“Nobody else gets to have my cum, just you. You’re gonna be my good boy while I’m gone and you’re gonna get as much cum as you want when I get back.”

That makes Paul smile, but when Sam’s hand shifts on his cock, he whimpers.

Chuckling, Sam kisses his neck. “I need to get my mouth on that gorgeous cock. Nobody else gets to have their mouth on it, do they?”

Immediately, Paul shakes his head. What a dumb question.

Sam growls and tightens his grip on him, making Paul moan. “Damn straight, they don’t.”

That makes Paul smile, his heart glowing at how perfect everything is.

Slowly pulling out of him, Sam undoes his hands and flips him over before tying his hands to the bed straps again. Then he dives down for Paul’s cock, wrapping his wet, warm mouth around it and making Paul moan as his toes curl.

Sam shoves Paul’s knees up and spreads them wide as he slides his lips up and down his cock before sliding three thick fingers back into his loose hole, thrusting into him and tugging on the rim. Having Sam playing with him like this makes Paul smile and he relaxes, letting Sam make him feel good.

At one point, Paul manages to pry his eyes open and glance down and when he sees Sam’s lips sliding over his slick, hard cock, a shot of arousal rushes through him and Paul cries out, his hands clutching the sheets as he desperately tries not to come. Sam draws it out for ages, but eventually he pulls off to tell Paul that he can come. He barely has time to get his lips back on his cock before Paul’s coming into his mouth, his entire body seizing up from the intensity.

He has difficulty focusing on anything for a while and Sam crawls over him, kissing him all over. He’s taking his time; kissing and nuzzling every inch of him, from his face all the way down to his toes, spending extra time on all the places where his name is written. Paul’s basking in the warm, comforting feelings that are washing through him and he wants to stay here forever.

Once Paul is more alert, Sam crawls up his body, settles on top of him and leisurely kisses him, his warm weight pressing Paul into the mattress. Paul sighs happily against Sam’s lips and wraps his legs and arms around him, their kisses slow and full of love.

But as time goes by, Paul notices Sam looking at the clock and reality filters back in.

Eventually, Sam sighs softly. “I gotta get breakfast started. I gotta hit the road in an hour or I’m gonna be late and Alan’s gonna kill me.”

Paul opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t give a damn about Alan or anybody else and he wants Sam to stay. But he can’t do that because Sam will definitely stay, but for all the wrong reasons and that will ruin everything.

So he keeps that happy smile on his face and gets up to have a quick shower and helps Sam cook breakfast and get his bag ready. Staying busy helps distract him and he volunteers to bring Sam’s gear down to his truck, fuels up his truck for him and fusses with filling Sam’s thermos with more coffee and cleaning up the breakfast dishes as Sam finishes getting ready.

Finally, Sam’s fully dressed and he grabs Paul and shoves him against the wall, kissing him hard and shoving his knee against Paul’s cock, not to arouse but just to remind him that he’s there. The actions are so familiar that Paul’s heart aches and rejoices at the same time. This is how they’ve said goodbye a thousand times before.

“I wanna put you in my truck and smuggle you into my room,” Sam mumbles against his lips.

Paul smiles sadly as he kisses him. “Just gimme the word and I’ll be there, cuffs on, no clothes, lubed up.”

Sam chuckles and kisses him hard before pulling back and staring at him, his eyes wild. “I’m coming back, Crick. Nothing’s gonna change my mind. _Nothing._ This is where I wanna be.”

Paul’s heart skips a beat and his smile brightens a bit. Unfortunately, none of Sam’s words will ever completely push that doubt out of his head. These are all promises Sam’s made before and he’d broken every single one. But before Paul can give in to the anxiety churning in his gut, he grabs Sam’s face and pulls him back for more kissing. Eventually, he pulls back and gives Sam a little shove. “Get on that highway, Deacon.”

Smiling, Sam runs his hand down Paul’s chest and into his sweatpants. “There’s something I gotta do first.”

As his heart skips a beat, Paul realizes Sam’s initiating one of the traditions they used to have whenever one of them had to head out into the bush. It’s not something they’d talked about, but it’s a relief that Sam’s remembered it.

Paul’s hands flying up to clutch Sam’s shoulders and he stares down at Sam’s hand as it easily slides deeper into his pants. Paul’s not wearing any underwear and Sam wraps his hand around Paul’s soft cock, making him shudder and gasp as he automatically spreads his legs farther apart. Sam’s not stroking his cock, he’s just holding it, reminding Paul who’s in control of his cock.

“Promise me something,” Sam whispers, his voice rough.

Clutching Sam’s shoulders, Paul shoves is hips forward, desperate to keep Sam’s hand where it is. “Hmm?”

“Don’t come while I’m gone,” Sam whispers, repeating words that he’d said a thousand times but they never lose their power. “I don’t care how desperate you get. You can fuck yourself but you can’t come. I never want you coming when I’m not with you.”

Heat rushes through Paul and he nods frantically, his cock stiffening in Sam’s grasp as he says the words he knows Sam’s desperately wanting to hear. “I won’t, I promise.”

The knowledge hits him that even if he gets really hard now, he won’t be allowed to come for two whole weeks. It brings back so many wonderful memories of how they used to do this twenty years ago and a joyful smile spreads over Paul’s face.

Sam’s smile mirrors his and he kisses him, looking relieved and his eyes shining. Maybe he wasn’t sure how Paul would react to playing this old game, but the fact that Paul’s smiling and achingly hard should put his worries to rest.

Paul smiles at him, eagerly waiting for Sam to ask Paul to make his other promise.

“And don’t touch your cock while I’m gone. You can touch it for normal things, but not for sex. I’m the only one who gets to touch your cock during sex.”

Whining softly, Paul nods, trembling. “I won’t, I promise,” he whispers. Making this promise had always felt as serious as marriage vows and the seriousness of the situation gives Paul a jolt of determination that helps push his sadness back. He has a mission to fulfill until Sam’s back. Sam can’t be around to take care of his cock so Paul has to make sure nobody else touches it—including Paul himself. His cock belongs to Sam.

Heat flares in Sam’s eyes and he tightens his grip on Paul’s hard cock as he kisses him hard, growling softly in his throat. After several hard kisses, Sam pulls back and releases Paul’s cock. As he always did, he does it quickly and pulls Paul’s pants back on straight before giving his aching cock another squeeze through the front of the pants. “You guard your cock until I’m back, Becker. Don’t disappoint me.”

Smiling, Paul nods. “I won’t.”

Quirking a grin at him, Sam takes a deep, shaky breath as he stares at Paul, his eyes full of love. “I’ll call you from the road.”

“Okay,” Paul says softly.

This part is the hardest, but Paul steels himself. Once Sam’s on the road, Paul can focus on his mission and that’ll be a good distraction. But first, Sam has to actually get on that road. As Sam opens the door, Paul stays pressed against the wall. If he makes a move towards Sam, he’ll come right back and it’ll make this whole thing even harder. It’s Paul’s job to stay still and let Sam leave.

Without another word, Sam heads through the door and shuts it behind him. The sound of his boots thudding down the wooden steps drift through the closed door and then he’s gone.

Paul stays where he is, shaking and clenching his jaw as his ears strain to hear Sam’s truck starting. Once he hears it, he closes his eyes and tries to quell the panicked voice that lights up in his head that’s saying: Sam’s never coming back. Sam was putting on an act and he hated doing all the weird things Paul loves doing. Sam felt sorry for him and was too polite to end things before his shift started.

The sound of Sam’s truck gradually fades away as Sam pulls onto the highway and drives away…possibly forever. Paul can’t help but flash back to the sound of Sam’s truck peeling out of their apartment parking lot twenty years ago after that horrible fight. Back then, Paul had been in shock and hadn’t known that Sam wasn’t coming back. But he knows that’s a distinct possibility now.

His phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts. He’s tempted to ignore the call, but it might be Leah. Trying to silence the horrible thoughts in his head, Paul numbly goes into the bedroom and grabs his flip phone from the bedside table. Without looking at the caller ID, he answers it.

“Hello?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Becker, if there are any bad thoughts in your head right now, I want you to stop.”

It’s Sam. Relief floods him and he nearly drops the phone as a half-sob makes its way out of his mouth. Sam called him. Sam called him within minutes of having left and he’s not trying to politely explain to Paul why he’s not coming back, instead, he’s trying to make Paul feel better.

Sam swears softly. “I’m coming back. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

That makes all the thoughts freeze in Paul’s head. What the _hell_ is he doing?! He’s being needy and clingy and he’s worrying Sam to such an extent that he’s on the verge of coming back home and throwing his job out the window for him. And Paul doesn’t want that. If Sam wants to quit his job, he should do it for himself, not because he feels guilty or worried.

“I’m fine,” he whispers, his voice shaky.

“The fuck you are. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Paul takes a deep breath and sternly tells himself to get a grip. Yes, Sam promised never to leave him before and he did leave. But part of being together means trusting Sam. If Paul can’t do that, that’s a problem. Sam might put up with Paul’s lack of trust for a while because he cares about him and feels guilty over their past, but he’ll get tired of that eventually and things will fall apart. And once they do, Paul won’t have anybody to blame but himself. “No, don’t. I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re not fine.” Sam sounds angry, but Paul knows he’s not angry at Paul; he’s worried and upset over the situation.

“Okay, fine. I’m not fine, but I have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything. It’s my job to take care of you and if you need me to stay home, I’ll do it.”

Paul shakes his head, clutching his phone. “No. You can’t quit your job for me.”

“Fuck my job! Nothing’s more important to me than you.”

This whole thing is going sideways. “Pull over and stop the truck.”

“I’m almost at the station.”

Paul takes a deep breath. “You can’t come back. Not like this. I’m having a hard time, but I have to push through this. I need to learn to trust you again and I can’t do that if you run back to me every time I’m having a hard time with that.”

“I wanna help you, Crick!”

“That won’t help! Deacon, that—if we both give in to the stupid fears in my head all the time, it’ll fuck everything up. You, me and everything we have. We can’t do that.”

Sam’s breathing hard, but Paul can hear the truck noise in the background stopping. He’s pulled over. Sam’s quiet for a while, hopefully thinking over what Paul had said.

Paul’s still on the verge of begging Sam to come back, but he presses his lips shut and keeps those words in his mouth where they have to stay. Hopefully, they’ll fade away eventually. He has to do this. For himself, for Sam and for their future.

“Are you sure?” Sam whispers, his voice rough.

“Yeah. I hate the thought of you being gone and I’m terrified that you won’t come back, but that’s why we have to do this. We’ve done this before a thousand times and I know I can do it.”

Sam goes quiet again for a while. Eventually, he starts talking and his voice has that firm, confident tone that Paul’s always loved. “What should I do to help? Asides from not coming back home early?”

Paul thinks. The first few hours are gonna be the hardest, but if he stays busy, that should be a good enough distraction. Hopefully, his anxiety will eventually burn itself out or at least, fade a little. “Can we keep talking while you drive up? I’m gonna head out into the shop but I wanna keep talking. But only if you’re okay with that.”

“Of course! That was my plan anyway. You wouldn’t leave me to drive for seven hours with just my radio for company, would you? I’ve suffered enough with that before we had cellphones.”

Paul smiles. “I’ll keep you company, don’t worry.”

“Good. What else?”

“Call me after your shifts are done and you’re settled in for the night.”

“Okay. You’ll keep yourself busy during the day and we can chat before you go to sleep. It’ll be a little tough when I switch to nights, but…”

As usual, Sam will start his shift doing one week of twelve-hour day-time shifts while the crew that’s doing their second week will switch to night-time shifts. Sam’s second week will be night-shift before he gets his one week off.

Paul shakes his head. “We’ll make it work. I’ll do the afternoon shifts when you’re doing nights and my mornings will be free.”

“Is that gonna be enough?” Sam sounds so damn worried and that makes Paul even more determined to do this.

“We’ll make it be enough. I might be a bit cranky and annoying, but we gotta push through. Please.”

Sam sighs softly. “Okay. We’ll give it our best shot.”

Smiling, Paul relaxes, already feeling a lot better about the situation. Now, he has two missions to complete until Sam’s back: not get off and fight his doubts about Sam’s desire to come back to him.


	12. Chapter 12

Talking to Sam and staying busy helps.

Somewhat.

Whenever those cruel doubts start bubbling up in his head, Paul finds himself something to do, even if that something is re-organizing the shop for the hundredth time or re-organizing the shelves in the store. He’s constantly checking the clock, counting down the hours until Sam will call him.

Sam was worried sick over him for the first few days, but as they settle into their new routine, they both gradually relax. They spend their evenings chatting about their day with Paul telling Sam about the customers who came by or the vehicles he’s working on and Sam telling him how their well is doing.

Back when Paul had been on the rigs too, they always loved telling each other how their shifts went, including complaining about dumb things their roughnecks did, stupid decisions being made by the big bosses in the city or complications during drilling. Despite Paul not having been out in the field in a decade, he still loves hearing about Sam’s adventures in the bush.

Sometimes they don’t have enough to say to chat for long, so they’ll read books together. Paul always has a pile of books from the Gibson library and Sam does some magic on his phone which Paul is unclear about, but it allows Sam to read the same book Paul’s reading. They take turns reading out-loud for each other, which is a nice way to spend time together. Sam seems to enjoy it and Paul encourages Sam to pick out a few of his own books before Paul’s next weekly trip to Gibson and he picks up Sam’s choices at the library. They’d both always enjoyed mystery stories, but Paul wants to make sure that they’re not always just reading Paul’s picks.

On nights when their province’s hockey team is playing and the game airs in the evening, they often watch the game together. Paul sits on his couch, watching the game on the television while Sam does some more magic on his phone that allows him to watch the game on it.

Talking to Sam on the phone isn’t the only thing that helps. Paul loves standing in front of the bathroom mirror every morning, completely naked so he can stare at Sam’s name written all over him. It always makes him feel so loved and happy when he turns in slow circles as he’s brushing his teeth, looking at Sam’s name on his back, his ass and his legs. Since nobody tends to come upstairs to see him, he feels comfortable walking around naked so he can see Sam’s name on his stomach and his chest.

If he’s having a really hard time and that anxiety is burning in his head, he’ll step into a corner and discreetly pull up his shirt enough to see Sam’s name written on his stomach. He always reminds himself that Sam had written his name there because Sam had wanted to do it as much as Paul had. And Sam did it because Paul belongs to him and he wants to take care of him forever.

The permanent marker is wonderful because Paul can shower, sweat and change his clothes but the letters fade very slowly. They’ll still be legible by the time Sam gets back—because he _will_ be back—and that always fills Paul with joy. He can rub his hands over Sam’s name and trace the letters as much as he wants and they’re just as solid after as before.

Night times are the worst. Sam always tries to keep their conversations upbeat and sufficiently distracting, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent that heavy silence that envelops Paul after they hang up.

Then Paul’s left lying in bed. He’s alone and Sam isn’t pressed up behind him and Sam isn’t holding his cock. When they’d first started doing this decades ago, Paul had been so miserable one night that he’d broken his promise to Sam and wrapped his own hand around his cock in an attempt to make himself feel better. But that had actually made him feel worse, not just because holding his own cock wasn’t the same but because he’d broken the promise he’d made to Sam. His cock belongs to Sam and that’s how Paul likes it. He’d told Sam about it and Sam had been very understanding, but he’d been just as happy as Paul to realize that Sam’s control of Paul’s cock was really something that was important to both of them.

So no matter how much he misses having Sam hold his cock, Paul doesn’t touch himself. Instead, he usually throws the blankets off himself and stares down at his naked body, rubbing his hands over Sam’s name on his chest and stomach. He loves to pulls up his knees and stare at Sam’s name written on the insides of his thighs. The black letters stand out so well, even in the darkness of the bedroom, and seeing them always makes Paul happy. It’ll bring back the memories of how Sam had written every single letter on him with that intense frown of concentration on his face as he’d marked Paul and declared that his body belongs to Sam.

Sometimes, Paul spends ages rubbing Sam’s name insides of his thighs and staring at the letters. If he rubs for too long, he’ll eventually get a bit hard, but he never touches himself. Even if his hands shift towards his cock, he always pulls them back. His cock belongs to Sam and he’s the only one who gets to make Paul come. Nobody else gets to take care of Paul’s cock.

That thought always makes him sigh happily as his heart glows and he’ll eventually drift off to sleep with his hands on his stomach, the black letters on his skin following him into sleep.

* * *

On the fourth day of Sam’s shift, Sam changes their routine by telling Paul that he’s feeling horny and he wants to get off to playing with Paul. Would Paul be interested in that?

That makes Paul grin as heat slowly coils in his belly. “Yeah, I’d be very interested in that. What do you want me to do?”

“I know you’re naked already, so that’ll save us some time. You’re gonna get some lube and that dildo with the suction cup. Then you’re gonna get back on the bed.”

His heart racing and his grin stretching over his face, Paul breathes out an ‘okay’ and leaps off the bed to get ready. Once he has his supplies, he follows Sam’s instructions as his voice comes out of his little flip phone on the bed. Paul attaches the thick dildo to the headboard, lubes it up and gets on his hands and knees as Sam instructs him to open himself up and get ready to fuck himself on the dildo.

Paul’s on his knees, his face pressed to one arm as he fucks himself with two fingers, his hole eagerly twitching around his fingers and his cock already stiff. Arousal is surging through him and knowing that he won’t be allowed to touch his cock or get off makes him even harder.

“You getting your hole nice and loose for that cock, Crick?”

“Yeah,” Paul gasps out, heat tingling through him as he pumps his fingers in and out of his hole.

“But you’re not touching your cock, right?”

Paul shakes his head against his arm as he moans. “No. Ne—never.”

Sam sucks in a shaky breath and lets out a quiet groan. “Damn straight. Your cock belongs to me and I don’t care how excited you’re gonna get tonight but you’re not gonna get off. Tonight you’re just gonna put on a show for me and listen to me get off.”

Shuddering, Paul presses his face harder against his arm. “God…”

Sam chuckles warmly. “Yeah, you’re excited, eh? That’s good. Your cock must be getting nice and hard by now. Are you leaking yet?”

Paul glances down and sees a thin strand of pre-cum dripping from his aching cock. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now get yourself on that dildo and start fucking it. I wanna hear it.”

Shaking with arousal, Paul pulls his fingers out and shifts closer to the dildo, getting it lined up against his loose, slick hole. Once the thick rubber head is nudging his rim, he plants his hands and knees firmly on the mattress and slides back onto it, groaning as it starts filling him up.

Sam’s breathing loudly. “It’s filling you up, isn’t it? Your greedy hole’s getting stuffed full of cock.”

Paul whines in response and slides down, letting the dildo fill him up.

“Start fucking yourself on it, Crick. And I want you staring at your dripping cock the entire time.”

Slowly thrusting back and forth on the thick dildo, Paul moans loudly and looks down at his throbbing cock. It’s bobbing from his thrusts, pre-cum dripping from it.

“You’re not allowed to touch that gorgeous cock of yours. It’s aching and filthy, isn’t it? It’s so desperate for me to touch it, but you’re not gonna come tonight. You’re gonna be my good boy and keep fucking yourself.” Sam’s voice is very rough and Paul knows he’s fisting his own cock, getting off to what Paul’s doing.

Paul lets out a choked whimper and closes his eyes, listening to Sam’s voice as he clenched around the thick cock in his ass.

“That cock feels so good in your ass, doesn’t it? Fuck, I know you look gorgeous right now. Your knees spread wide, your hole clenching around that cock and my name written all over you.”

As Paul keeps fucking himself on the dildo, his orgasm starts to build and it’s instinct to reach for his cock so he can stop himself from coming, but he remembers at the last second and yanks his hands away with a sob.

“You getting close, huh? Pull off the cock. Do it right now.”

Shaking, Paul pulls himself of the dildo, his arms and legs trembling as he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard and desperately trying to push away his orgasm.

“Fold your arms on the bed and put your head down. Curl up in a little ball and just breathe. I’ll count and you breathe when I tell you to.”

Paul follows Sam’s orders without being aware of it. He curls up on the mattress, his face pressed to his arms as his hands clench into fists and his hole clenches around nothing, still desperate to be filled. His cock throbs between his legs but Paul ignores it, obeying Sam’s instructions on when to take a breath.

Gradually, the need to come becomes less urgent. He’s still trembling from arousal, but his heart’s not racing as hard.

“You good, Crick?”

“Yeah,” Paul whispers.

Sam takes a shaky breath. “Fuck. I miss you so damn much,” he whispers.

Those words cut through Paul’s arousal and his heart clenches as a sob shudders out of his mouth. He wants Sam to be here. He needs Sam to touch him and hold him. He needs to feel Sam’s arms around him and his hand holding Paul’s throbbing cock. He knows he just has to say the words and Sam will quit his job and drive right back down. It sounds like Sam misses Paul just as desperately as Paul’s missing him, so really, he’d be doing them both a favour…

But before the words can come out of his mouth, common sense returns. They’re both very emotional right now and things have been difficult, but doable so far. Paul doesn’t want Sam rushing down here for him. Sam hadn’t mentioned being unhappy with his job and wanting to come home, so asking him to come down early won’t lead to good things in the long run.

“I—Jesus…I wish I were there with you, Crick. Fuck, I—”

“Stop,” Paul whispers in a shaky voice.

Sam’s voice abruptly cuts off. “Crick?” The shakiness is gone from his voice, probably pushed aside by adrenaline from Paul saying a word that very rarely comes up during their bedroom activities.

“Please, stop,” Paul whispers against his arm.

“You wanna stop for the night? You want me to calm you down?”

Shaking his head, Paul takes a shaky breath, trying to ignore the aching in his heart and his cock, both miserable for different reasons. “Stop telling me how much you miss me. Please. I can’t…please.”

“Okay. Okay, I get it. I’m sorry,” Sam breathes, his voice thick with worry.

Turning his head to the side, Paul stares at the phone. The shock of Sam’s words have helped push back his arousal and he’s almost back to thinking clearly. That’s a little sad, but necessary. “You know I miss you too. And I know you miss me. But hearing us say the words just reminds me that we still have a week and a half to go and that makes me miserable.”

“I can come—”

“No. It’s fine as long as we don’t talk about that stuff. When we’re just chatting or having sex like this, it’s bearable. It’s not perfect, but it makes me happy. If it’s not making you happy, then we gotta talk about that. But it’s enough for me. I can pretend that you’re right here next to me. But I can’t do it if you remind me that you’re not here.”

Sam’s quiet for a long moment. “Okay. Do you wanna stop for tonight?”

Paul smiles. “Not really. But you’re in charge.” He keeps his voice light when he says it, knowing those words will get Sam back on board if he’s in the mood.

Sure enough, Sam’s breathing picks up. “Your ass hasn’t gotten fucked enough yet, huh?” He’s got that confident, cocky drawl in his voice again, which sends a shiver of heat through Paul again.

“Nope.”

Sam chuckles. “Then get back on that cock. I want your hole stuffed full of cock again. You’re gonna ride it hard and make your cock ache again and you’re not gonna stop or slow down until I tell you to.”

A shudder runs through him and Paul grins as he eagerly pushes himself up to his hands and knees and lines the dildo up again, all the sadness from earlier having disappeared as he slides back down, groaning as it fills him up.

“There you go, Crick. That’s my good boy. Ride it hard.”

Moaning, Paul sets a fast pace, keeping the dildo deep and clenching his ass around it as arousal shoots through him again.

“Look at your cock while you’re fucking yourself. You’re so damn hard, aren’t you?”

Staring down at his hard cock, Paul gasps and digs his hands into the sheets, his cock aching with the need to come. But no matter how badly he wants to touch his cock or slow down, he can’t because Sam’s in charge. Once the heat has built up again and he’s whining, Sam tells him to pull off and curl up again, ordering him to breathe on his count and helping to calm him down. Everything about it is amazing.

They repeat the cycle over and over again. Sometimes Paul can last longer before the need to come gets overwhelming, sometimes he can only last for a few thrusts on the dildo before he’s whimpering and Sam’s ordering him to pull off and curl up.

The last time Sam tells him to pull off, he tells Paul he’s going to come. “You’re gonna stay curled up and not touch that gorgeous cock and you’re gonna listen to me get off.”

Pressing his face against his shaking arm, Paul closes his eyes and clenches his jaw as waves of arousal run through his entire body, radiating from his aching cock.

Sam’s breathing is choppy and there’s the sound of skin rubbing over wet skin, which Paul realizes is Sam fisting his cock hard. He must have put the phone close to his other hand and he wants Paul to hear it. Groaning against his arm, Paul shudders hard and holds his breath, willing himself not to come despite how turned on he is.

Eventually, Sam’s breath hitches and he lets out a soft groan and Paul knows he’s coming. It sends a jolt of arousal through him and he has to clench his jaw to keep from coming. He can picture Sam lying on his bed, the phone in one hand while his other hand works his cock, cum covering his cock, hand and stomach. He can’t help but dwell on how badly he wishes Sam were coming on him instead of his own hand, but he pushes that thought aside.

He’ll get Sam’s cum in a week and a half.

Sam’s breathing hard. “You okay, Crick?”

Paul manages to let out a positive noise. As long as he stays curled up and listening to Sam’s voice, he can keep his own orgasm at bay.

“Did you come?” Sam asks, his tone carefully neutral.

Paul shakes his head against his arm. “No.”

“Good boy! That’s my good boy. You only get to come when I’m there, don’t you? You don’t wanna come when I’m not there.”

Shaking his head again, Paul digs his hands into the sheets. He’s still achingly close to coming, but there’s an even better feeling inside him: pride. “I’m being good,” he mumbles.

Sam lets out a fond chuckle. “Yeah, you are. You’re being my good boy. Nobody else gets to be my good boy, just you. I’m so damn proud of you.”

Smiling, Paul closes his eyes and relaxes, happy that he’s obeying Sam and making him proud. “I like being your good boy,” he whispers.

Sam’s breath catches and he lets it out slowly. “I like it when you’re being my good boy. I don’t want anybody else being my good boy, just you.” Sam’s voice sounds rough, making Paul smile fondly.

Paul lies there for a while, his arousal slowly fading away as Sam keeps praising him and saying wonderful things. Eventually, Sam tells him to pull the dildo off the headboard and pull the covers over himself.

After they say goodnight and hang up the phone, Paul lies in bed, his eyes still closed as the echoes of Sam’s voice drift in his head. Lifting the covers, Paul opens his eyes and glances down at his cock. It’s still half-hard. Smiling, Paul spreads his legs, loving the ache in his ass as he rubs Sam’s name on the inside of his thighs and his stomach.

Sam might not be physically with him, but Paul can feel and hear him everywhere anyway. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough for him to close his eyes and fall asleep, feeling very good.

* * *

The morning his shift ends, Sam’s so excited about going home that’s he’s practically vibrating, despite just having finished a night shift. He’d packed up most of his gear the night before and he throws everything into his truck before breakfast.

Usually, he’d get a few hours of sleep between his last shift and waiting for the new shift’s supervisor to show up, but adrenaline’s surging through him and he’s way too excited to sleep. Instead of sleeping, he sits in the doghouse, clicking his pen and tapping his foot anxiously as he keeps his eyes glued on the window that overlooks the access road coming into the site. Finally, the truck bringing the next shift’s supervisor comes down the road and Sam tries to keep his heart from exploding as he watches the supervisor parking and getting his gear out of his truck.

Taking a deep breath, Sam clenches his jaw. As much as he wants to run out there and tell the guy everything he needs to know so Sam can leave, that would be rude and unsafe. He knows Paul’s probably just as anxious as him. He’s probably trying to keep himself busy in the shop or doing a shift in the store. His hands are probably shaking just as much as Sam’s, desperate for Sam to come back home.

The supervisor finally comes out of the sleeping shack and walks towards the doghouse. Sam has all his paperwork lined up, ready to get through the change-over information as fast as possible, while still being thorough. Once Sam’s at home, he doesn’t want to get any work-related phone calls, especially today. He’ll have to stay distracted on the long, seven hour drive down, but once he has Paul within grabbing distance, he’ll fall so deep into domspace that he’ll probably break his phone if it tries to interrupt his time with Paul.

When the change-over’s done, Sam rushes to get changed out of his coveralls and leaps into his truck, tearing out of the wellsite and ready to leave the oil patch behind for a week.

* * *

The drive down is much more difficult than the last one had been. The last time, he’d been excited but still apprehensive over whether Paul really wanted to re-ignite their relationship and that old guilt had still sat heavy in his gut.

A little hint of guilt is still there. Some of it’s probably that old guilt from what he’d done twenty years ago, but the rest is from having left his sub for two weeks. Sam still can’t figure out if he’d truly be happy quitting his job or if he’d only be doing it because he feels guilty, so that’s something he still has to figure out.

But not today.

Today, he’s driving as fast as the company-installed GSP speed tracker in his truck allows him to and listening to music at full volume to keep himself distracted. Every time he thinks about seeing Paul soon—touching him, kissing him, fucking him—that surge of adrenaline washes through him and he’s teetering on the edge of falling right into domspace. His mouth keeps watering every time he thinks about getting to suck Paul’s cock in a few hours, especially because his sub hasn’t come in two weeks and Sam’s the one who gets to give him that release.

Whenever the anticipation’s making him too excited, it’s time to open the windows wide to let the winter air in and drink some water. As he and Paul had agreed last night, they won’t talk on the phone while Sam’s driving down. With both of them being excited, there’s no way Sam could focus on anything except what he’ll get to do with Paul once he has his hands on him and that doesn’t create safe driving conditions.

But despite his best efforts to stop thinking about what will happen once he’s home, he’s already hard by the time he gets out of the Clark oil field and turns onto the highway.


	13. Chapter 13

After seven long hours of driving, Sam’s finally— _finally_ —in Wiley and approaching the gas station. He sees the big sign—Becker’s Gas and Auto Shop—when he’s still a kilometre away and a huge smile appears on his face and his hands clench his steering wheel.

“Almost there, Crick. Just wait a few more minutes,” he mumbles, his voice shaking.

Pulling into the gas station, Sam’s truck crunches over the frozen gravel and fine layer of snow that had fallen overnight. Stopping in front of the shop, Sam glances up at Paul’s home sitting above the shop and his heart races even faster, knowing Paul’s in there, waiting for him.

He practically rips the keys out of the ignition once he’s stopped the truck and he doesn’t bother getting any of this stuff out; he just races up the steps to Paul’s house. When he reaches the door, he knocks on it, and it’s torn open mid-knock and Paul’s standing on the other side, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” Paul breathes out in a shaky voice.

Just the sight of Paul makes adrenaline rush through Sam again and he grabs Paul and shoves him backwards. Kicking the door shut behind him, he keeps one hand twisted in Paul’s shirt while he reaches behind him and flips the lock shut. Once the door is secure, he shoves Paul up against the nearest wall and crushes their lips together.

Tasting Paul’s warm lips against his own and feeling Paul’s solid warmth under his hands gets him even harder and he whines against Paul’s lips as he pressed up against him. Out of instinct, he flattens himself against Paul, pressing him up against the wall and wedging his thigh against Paul’s cock, which is stiff in his sweatpants. Paul lets out a loud whine and slides his hands around Sam’s waist, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer as he rubs his hard cock against Sam’s thigh.

Sam’s shaking, kissing Paul hard and wanting to crawl into him and never leave. He wants to touch Paul everywhere and not let him be out of touching distance for the rest of his life. His breathing choppy, Paul’s whining and trembling against him, grinding his cock against Sam’s thigh.

Kissing Paul is amazing, but there’s one thing Sam’s been even more desperate to do for two weeks and he knows Paul’s missed it as much as he has. Wedging a hand between them, Sam slides it down Paul’s shirt and fumbles to get into his waistband. Paul lets out another whine, no doubt knowing where Sam’s hand is going.

To Sam’s joy, Paul’s not wearing any underwear and as soon as he’s in his pants, he wraps his hand around Paul’s warm, hard cock. Paul cries out and presses his forehead against Sam’s, his hands clutching Sam’s shirt. Gasping against Paul’s lips, Sam tightens his grip around his cock as adrenaline makes his hear soar. He’s really home.

His mouth watering, Sam’s desperate to get his mouth on Paul’s cock, but tradition has to be followed. There are two questions he has to ask Paul before he can get Paul off. “Crick?” he whispers, his voice shaking.

“Hmm?” Paul’s voice is unusually high-pitched and his hips are shifting, as if he’s trying to thrust his cock in Sam’s grip.

“Did you come while I was away?”

Paul shakes his head, his forehead rubbing against Sam’s. “No.”

Even though Sam had known the answer already, a rush of power comes over him at Paul’s reply. There was nothing stopping Paul from getting off every single day when Sam’s away, except Sam’s orders. And he didn’t have to follow those orders, but he wanted to. He made the choice to obey Sam, even while Sam wasn’t home.

His heart racing, Sam nearly sinks to his knees to get his mouth on Paul’s cock and give him the relief he’s earned, but there’s one more question he has to ask. “Did you touch yourself while I was away?”

Paul shakes his head even more firmly. “No. Not even once. You’re the only one who gets to touch my cock like that.”

A growl rumbles in his throat and Sam kisses Paul hard, pressing him against the wall and pouring his love for him into the kiss as he rubs Paul’s cock, his hand already sticky. Paul’s shaking like a leaf and he’s gasping against Sam’s lips.

Keeping his hand on Paul’s cock—releasing it would make both of them very unhappy—Sam uses his free hand to gently pull Paul’s pants down, easing the waistband over his aching cock. Groaning at the sight of Paul’s gorgeous, thick cock, Sam slides to his knees. He keeps one arm pressed across Paul’s hips, not wanting him to collapse and wanting him to feel that Sam’s keeping him where he wants him.

Pulling Paul’s cock towards him, Sam slides the slick length into his mouth, sucking hard on the leaking head and loving the familiar taste of it. His own cock is aching where it’s pressing against his jeans but he ignores it. He’ll have plenty of time to fuck his sub later. For now, his sub has earned an amazing orgasm and Sam can’t wait to give it to him.

Paul’s gasping and his hips thrust his cock deeper into Sam’s mouth as he stares down at him, pressing his hands against the wall behind him. Sam keeps watching Paul as he sucks on his cock, sliding up and down the hard length and rubbing his tongue against the slit. He loves listening to every sound Paul makes and every small twitch and shift of his body.

Having Paul’s cock in his mouth after two long weeks is amazing. He’s back home and he’ll have his sub all to himself and he gets to make him feel good and take care of him with his own two hands for a whole week.

When Paul’s shaking intensifies and a small frown appears on his face, Sam pulls off his cock, replacing his mouth with his hand to keep rubbing it. “You can come whenever you want, Crick. You’ve been my good boy and you earned it.”

That makes Paul smile that bright, happy smile that Sam only sees when he’s praising Paul during sex.

Sliding his mouth back over Paul’s cock, Sam sucks hard, using his tongue and lips to make Paul feel great and forget about the two weeks that they’d been separated. Within a few minutes, Paul goes rigid and his breath catches right before his cock is spurting warm cum into Sam’s mouth.

Moaning at the familiar taste, Sam keeps sliding his lips up and down Paul’s cock, letting his cock smear the cum around his mouth as Paul keeps coming. As always, Paul’s orgasm is more intense and lasts longer after two weeks of being deprived and Sam loves every second of it.

Once Paul’s done, he’s trembling and gazing down at Sam, his eyes a little unfocused and a content smile on his face.

Not wanting to stop sucking Paul’s cock yet, Sam keeps it in his mouth, enjoying how it fills his mouth and how nice the smooth skin of the cock’s head feels against his tongue. He knows Paul’s cock is more sensitive now, but Paul’s smiling down at him, moaning softly as he watches Sam. He knows Paul’s happy to let Sam do whatever he wants with Paul’s cock and that sends another jolt of arousal through him.

When he’s had enough—for now—Sam pulls off and gets to his feet, toeing off his shoes. Before Paul can get upset, Sam wraps his hand around Paul’s cock again, making Paul moan and his smile grow. Paul’s cock is still hard and that’s how Sam likes it best. Paul’s soft cock is nice for fondling when they’re falling asleep, but Sam will never get enough of Paul’s cock when it’s thick and hard.

He slides his loose hand around Paul’s back, pulling him close, with Paul’s hard cock pressed between them and Sam’s hand wrapped around it. Squeezing Paul’s cock, Sam kisses his neck, pressing his nose against Paul’s skin and breathing in his scent. Fuck, he’s missed Paul so much.

Paul lets out a soft sound and shivers as he wraps his arms around Sam’s neck, holding him close.

“That felt good,” Sam mumbles into his neck. “You always taste so damn good, especially when I haven’t had your cock in my mouth for two weeks.”

“Felt damn good too,” Paul mumbles.

Sam kisses his neck and rubs his thumb hard over the sensitive head of Paul’s cock. “You earned every second of it.”

Paul makes a soft, happy sound in his throat and Sam squeezes his arm tighter around his back. He never wants to let go.

Unfortunately, the lack of his usual post nightshift nap and the long drive down has taken its toll and now that his adrenaline is slowly fading, he’s exhausted. He’s slumping against Paul more than he usually does and his legs feel a bit shaky, sure signs that he’s not 21 anymore.

Groaning against Paul’s neck, Sam rubs his hard, warm cock. “I need a nap but I also need to fuck you.”

Paul chuckles softly, rubbing Sam’s back. “Good thing we have a whole week, eh?”

Sighing softly, Sam breathes in Paul’s scent as his eyes start drifting closed. He’s going to fall asleep right where he’s standing.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, okay? You can have a nice nap for a few hours.”

The bed seems so far away and getting there seems so complicated. And there’s also another concern, one which is a way bigger problem than the other two issues. “But I can’t fuck you when I’m sleeping.”

Laughing, Paul squeezes him tight and pulls back, kissing him and pressing their foreheads together. “You can fuck me when you’re awake. You’re gonna wanna fuck me for a while, right?”

“Uh huh,” Sam mumbles, his eyes having closed completely. Unfortunately, his cock has joined the rest of his body with its desire to stop cooperating with his plans and he’s getting soft. Stupid body.

“That means you gotta get a few hours of sleep and then I’m all yours for the rest of the week.”

Sam grumbles a bit more, but he’s fighting a losing battle. Both his body and Paul seem to be supporting the nap idea, so he might as well surrender.

Sadly, he has to let go of Paul’s cock so Paul can pull his sweatpants back up before they go into the bedroom. As he’s walking, Sam’s leaning on Paul and his exhaustion becomes even more obvious. Clearly, his body’s spent the entire morning running on adrenaline and it’s run out. Paul helps him pull off his clothes and pushes him into bed. Sinking into the soft bed that’s so much better than the thin mattress of the camp shack, Sam groans happily, his eyes drifting closed again.

Laughing softly, Paul pulls the blankets up over him and tucks him in before covering Sam’s face with soft kisses. Sam smiles against the kisses, already half asleep.

“Sleep as long as you want,” Paul whispers against his forehead before brushing kisses over it. “I’ll be down in the shop getting a few things done and then I’ll come up and get dinner started.”

Needing Paul to take care of him like this happens so rarely, but Sam’s always grateful that he can rely on him when it does happen. He loves taking care of Paul and being the one in charge of Paul’s well being, but whenever he’s worn out or he’s having a hard time dealing with his emotions, it’s so nice that Paul automatically steps up and reverses their roles so effortlessly in order to take care of Sam until he’s back to standing on his own two feet and their roles can go back to the way they normally are.

* * *

When Sam wakes up, he feels much better and he can smell food. That reminds him how hungry he is. He’d eaten breakfast at the rig and he’d munched on snacks during the drive down, but he really wants a nice, big meal now.

Stretching and letting out a loud groan, he smiles at how warm and comfortable Paul’s bed is. When he was younger, he didn’t need any recovery time after his two week shifts and he’d be ready for action as soon as he got down from camp, but sadly, those days seem to be behind him. But now that he’s recharged his batteries and he’s wide awake, he needs Paul back within grabbing distance. “Crick?”

“Hang on, I need to finish your steak. Gimme two minutes.”

Sam doesn’t want to wait two minutes and he’s debating getting up to find Paul in the kitchen, but the bed is just so damn comfortable.

Luckily, Paul takes the decision out of his hands when he appears in the doorway and saunters up to the bed with a soft smile. “You look better. Sleep well?”

“Uh huh.” Sam stares at Paul, but he’s wearing way too many clothes. He wants to see his name written on Paul’s skin and he wants to touch his cock, all of which require less clothes. “Get your clothes off, Becker. You should never wear clothes when we’re home together.”

He hadn’t meant it seriously, but Paul’s eyes widen as heat flares in them. “Okay.”

Seeing the desperate want in Paul’s eyes makes adrenaline surge through Sam and he throws the covers off himself as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Clothes off and get over here. I wanna touch your cock and see my name written all over you.”

Paul’s lips part a bit and his hands are shaking as he hurries to pull his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor as he crawls onto the bed to straddle Sam’s waist, his cock already getting a bit hard.

As soon as Paul’s sitting on him, Sam pulls him close and makes himself comfortable. Then it’s time to play. Wrapping both hands around Paul’s stiffening cock, Sam happily rubs and squeezes it, coaxing it back to the full hardness he loves.

Paul’s thighs are clamped tightly around his sides and he’s holding his hands behind his back, staring down at Sam with half-lidded eyes and that joyful smile on his face. Shaking with adrenaline, Sam’s getting hard again as he stares at his sub straddling him, having obeyed Sam’s orders without question and not doing anything to stop Sam from touching him however he wants. Sam lets his eyes roam over Paul’s skin, eagerly drinking in the thick black letters written on his pale skin.

_Sam’s._

Everywhere he looks, he’s marked Paul as belonging to him and the best part is that Paul’s allowed him to do it. Paul let him cover his skin with permanent black marker, sealing the transfer of ownership and control over his own body to Sam.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sam rubs Paul’s cock harder, twisting his hands around the warm, hard length and pressing his thumb against the thick head, listening to Paul whimper. Paul’s trembling, but he’s making no move to pull away from Sam and his hands are still clasped behind him.

“You love belonging to me, don’t you, Crick?” Sam whispers, staring up at him.

Paul’s smile gets even bigger. “You know I do.”

Sam wants to ask Paul if he’s really into the idea of being naked regularly when they’re home together, but that’s not a conversation to be had when Paul’s already fallen partially into subspace. They’ll need to talk about other things too, but that can all wait until they’re in bed together tonight. For now, Sam wants to play with his sub and make both of them feel good.

Still rubbing Paul’s cock, Sam runs through the hundreds of scenarios he’d dreamt up over the last two weeks. It’s so hard choosing which one he wants to start with, but his stomach rudely reminds him that he’s still hungry and Paul probably hasn’t eaten yet either. They’ll start with that.

“Did you eat yet?” Sam asks him, slowly stroking his cock.

Paul moans, staring down at Sam’s hands playing with his cock, but he shakes his head.

“We’re gonna start with that. You’re gonna kneel next to me and I’m gonna feed you dinner. I’ll clip your hands together first, so they don’t get in the way. Then you’re gonna suck my cock for a little while. When I had enough of that, I’m gonna bend you over the table, lock your feet in the spreader bar and slide the vibrating plug into your ass. I’m gonna eat dinner and you’re gonna lie on the table, so desperate to come, but you’re not gonna cause I won’t give you permission.”

Paul’s eyes flare with heat and he’s letting out soft sounds, his thighs twitching as he stares down at Sam, his breathing shaky.

Sam keeps gently stroking and squeezing Paul’s cock and fondling his balls. By the feel of it, Sam knows Paul’s already desperate to come, but not being allowed to come for a while will be even more enjoyable for him than actually being allowed to come. “I won’t give you permission to come for a while. When I’m done eating, I’m gonna pull out the plug and fuck you. I’ll fuck you on the table for a while and when I’ve had enough, that’s when you’re gonna be allowed to come, right before I fill you up with my cum.”

Sam keeps a careful eye on Paul’s face and body language as he talks. They’ve gotten comfortable enough around each other again that Sam’s pretty confident that he knows what Paul likes and doesn’t like, but as a last check, he likes to tell Paul his plans ahead of time. Having Sam not ask for Paul’s input when he’s creating scenes is one of Paul’s biggest turn-ons and Sam knows it, but that’s a huge responsibility which Sam takes very seriously.

Telling Paul his plans accomplishes two things: it gets Paul excited about what’s to come, but Paul’s reaction also lets Sam judge whether Paul’s okay with what he’s planning. He’s spent years studying every muscle, every twitch, every shift of Paul’s body and Sam has complete faith in his ability to know if Paul’s not okay with something either during the one-sided discussion beforehand, or during the scene itself.

When Paul’s shaking gets more intense, Sam decides it’s time to get things started. Releasing Paul’s cock, he pulls Paul down and kisses him hard, sliding his tongue into his mouth while he keeps Paul balanced above him with both hands, since Paul’s still keeping his hands behind his back. Paul groans against his lips and kisses him back eagerly, his thighs shaking.

Sam takes his time kissing him. While touching Paul’s cock may be his favourite thing in the world, fucking Paul and kissing him will always be close behind; both activities being tied for second place.

When Sam’s had his fill, he pulls back and gently cradles Paul’s face in his hands. “Let’s get you out into the kitchen, Crick. I wanna feed you.”

That radiating smile blooms on Paul’s face again. “Okay,” he whispers, barely enunciating any of the letters so the word is barely intelligible.

Chuckling, Sam kisses his forehead and wraps his arms around Paul’s waist, helping him climb off him as they slide to the edge of the bed. Sam has Paul wait on the bed while he pulls on Paul’s abandoned shirt and sweatpants from the floor. He doesn’t mind staying naked, since he’s going to be fucking Paul soon anyway, but he knows Paul loves the power imbalance of being naked while Sam’s fully dressed.

When he’s dressed, Sam brings Paul out of the bedroom and has him kneel on a couch cushion, next to the chair where Sam will sit. Tilting Paul’s head back, Sam smiles down at him. “You’re gonna be my good boy and wait for me. I’m gonna get your cuffs.”

Paul’s only response is slowly blinking up at him while smiling, so Sam kisses his forehead and goes to the box of toys to pull out the cuffs. He decides to make things interesting right off the bat and grabs the wrist and ankle cuffs, along with a few carabiners.

Going back to Paul, he crouches down behind him and gently wraps the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, making them tight enough to be secure but making sure they’re not too tight. Clipping Paul’s wrist cuffs together and then his ankle cuffs, Sam adds a few more carabiners, connecting the left wrist cuff with the right ankle cuff, and repeating the process for the other wrist cuff and ankle cuff. He’s not happy with the tightness of the right wrist cuff to the left ankle cuff—it’s too tight—so he unclips it and adds another carabiner to make a chain so the restraint will be a bit looser.

After checking everything again, he stands and tilts Paul’s face up. “Are they comfortable?”

Paul’s trembling and his eyes are barely open but his smile is full of joy. “Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding his head.

“Not too tight?” Sam likes to deliberately ask questions which will force Paul to give him both negative and positive responses, just so he knows Paul’s really understanding what he’s saying and not just repeating whatever word is in his head.

Right on cue, Paul’s head nodding changes to head shaking, indicating he’d understood. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, his words slurred.

Smiling, Sam covers his face in kisses and reaches down to fist Paul’s cock, jerking it hard a few times and squeezing it, making Paul cry out as he strains against the cuffs, the metal clips making soft clinking sounds as they refuse to let him go.

Adrenaline’s surging through Sam and his cock is aching in his pants. He’s desperate to slide his cock into Paul’s mouth or Paul’s ass, but he’ll get that later. First, he wants to make sure his sub forgets all about the two weeks they were separated.

Releasing Paul’s cock, Sam straightens up and smiles down at him. “You be my good boy and wait here. I’m gonna get your dinner.”

Leaving Paul where he is, Sam steps past him and into the kitchen, surveying the food Paul had prepared. His stomach growls when he sees the two thick steaks on the little grill and there are two pots on the stove, one filled with vegetables and the other with mashed potatoes.

Pulling out two plates from the cupboards, Sam prepares two plates. Pulling Paul’s plate closer, he grabs a steak knife and fork and cuts up the food to make life easier for him later. When he’s ready, he takes out a spoon and brings their plates and cutlery to the table.

Paul’s still kneeling where he’d left him, his eyes closed and that smile still on his face. His cock is still hard and leaking and Sam knows hearing him walking around and ignoring Paul while he was kneeling naked, aroused and restrained on the floor had filled him with even more heat.

Putting the dishes and cutlery down on the table, Sam goes to get two glasses of water. But for Paul’s water, he digs out one of the plastic straws that they keep in the cutlery drawer and sticks it into the glass before bringing the glasses to the table.

Sitting down and putting the glasses on the table, Sam shifts his chair closer to Paul and lifts Paul’s chin, grinning at him as Paul opens his eyes. “Hungry?”

Paul’s smile grows bigger and he nods.

Stroking Paul’s cheek with the back of his fingers, Sam can’t help but bend down and covers his face in soft kisses. Jesus, he loves this man so damn much. Sam’s always felt like the luckiest guy in the universe, but what he’s been feeling in the last few weeks is even more intense than what he’d felt when they were younger.

Releasing Paul and straightening up, Sam grabs the spoon and scoops up a little bit of everything on Paul’s plate, making the mouthful not too big and not too small. Bringing the spoon down, he watches Paul open his mouth, waiting for Sam to bring him the food.

Slipping the spoon carefully into Paul’s mouth so he doesn’t bump the metal into his teeth, Sam watches carefully as Paul closes his lips around it. Pulling the spoon out, Sam smiles as Paul chews.

Feeding Paul is always intense. It’s such a quiet and calm activity compared to other things they do, but it’s filled with intensity for Sam. His sub’s hands are bound behind his back, tied to his feet and he’s completely restrained right now. There’s no way Paul could reach any of the food in the kitchen from the position he’s currently in. It’s Sam’s decision whether Paul gets to eat or not, and having complete control over such a basic but vital aspect of someone else’s life always fills Sam with the intense need to do a good job and keep Paul safe and happy.

The trust Paul is putting into him is unbelievable. There are so many small things to consider. Sam gets to decide what food Paul eats and in what order. He decides how big or small to make the mouthfuls. He decides the pace. He decides when Paul should drink some water and when he’s had enough to eat. Yes, he can ask Paul questions about any of these things, but ultimately, the choice of what to do rests with Sam. He gets the final say. And there are so many ways Sam could abuse this power. If he decides not to feed Paul for a few days and keep him restrained, there’s nothing Paul can do. He wouldn’t be able to get food or water for himself, he wouldn’t be able to leave the house and he wouldn’t even be able to call for help.

And there are a hundred different ways Sam could accidentally injure or humiliate Paul. If he smacks the spoon against Paul’s teeth, he could chip his tooth. Paul could choke and he wouldn’t be able to save himself. Paul can’t wipe his face if something drips out of his mouth. And to Sam’s continued amazement, Paul takes all of these risks purely because he trusts Sam and enjoys giving Sam this level of control over him.

Paul’s quietly chewing his mouthful and when he’s swallowed, he opens his mouth again, patiently waiting for Sam to decide if or when he gets another one.

Adrenaline rushes through Sam in waves and he has to stop himself from grabbing Paul, holding him tight and just thanking him over and over again for the gift he’s giving him. But that would just confuse Paul and it would tear apart the magic of this moment and that’s the last thing Sam wants.

So he focuses on scooping out perfect spoonfuls of food, feeding them to Paul, wiping his face when necessary and watching him very carefully to make sure he’s happy and enjoying himself. As always happens when he’s in domspace like this, Sam’s entire world has narrowed down to focus on Paul and nothing else. He doesn’t notice their surroundings, his own hunger or even his own plate of food on the table.

Nothing else exists in his world except Paul kneeling naked and restrained next to him and the plate of food Sam’s slowly feeding him.


	14. Chapter 14

Paul floats happily as Sam feeds him. There’s something so intensely submissive about allowing himself to be restrained while he kneels naked next to Sam and waits for him to feed him. Paul has no control over what he’s eating or when; it’s all Sam’s choice.

His cock calms down while he eats, the non-sexual nature of being fed keeping him nicely submerged in his haze, but it’s a different kind of haze. But once he’s done eating, things move into a different direction. It’s one that Paul loves equally, but in a different way.

Sam tells him to stay where he is while he gets up and walks around. As always, hearing Sam walking around and being fully dressed and doing things while Paul kneels naked and restrained on the floor sends a rush of arousal through him and his cock gets interested again.

Paul keeps his eyes closed, completely relaxed and happy. He doesn’t need to watch what Sam’s doing. Whatever it is, Sam’s doing it to continue making Paul feel happy. That’s a fact he knows as well as his own name.

Eventually, Sam crouches down behind him and undoes the clips keeping his ankles and wrists tied together. His wrists stay connected, but the other restraints release, which always makes him feel a little sad, but Sam kisses the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Crick. I’m just gonna get you up on and bent over the table. Then I’m gonna put your feet in the spreader bar.”

Oh! That’s okay then.

Sam gets him up and Paul notices Sam’s put a towel on the ground and there are several towels on the table, creating a thick padding on top and against the long edge. Guiding Paul to the table, Sam gently pushes against his back, telling him to bend over and lean on the towels while his feet are planted on the towel on the floor.

Paul presses his chest and face against the towels as his chained wrists stay behind his back. The table’s high enough that his cock isn’t brushing the bottom of it and he’s glad to notice that Sam’s deliberately curled the towels over the edge of the hard table so it’s not digging painfully into his stomach and hips. Love for Sam makes Paul’s heart squeeze and he smiles as he rubs his face against the soft towel and relaxes.

Sam’s rubbing his back and kissing his neck, his soft sweatpants brushing Paul’s ass. “How does it feel? Comfortable?”

Paul turns his face to the side and nods. “It’s good.”

“Nothing’s pressing into you? You’re gonna be here for a while.”

That makes Paul shiver with excitement and he shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Sam’s hands rub over his ass and Paul eagerly spreads his legs, eager for Sam to play with his hole, but Sam stays away from it, his fingers tracing over the familiar letters on his back and his ass. Being reminded of Sam’s name covering his skin makes Paul smile and he reminds himself to ask Sam to redo the markings soon. He doesn’t like when they start to fade.

“Okay, let’s get your feet locked up. They’re shifting around too much for my liking. We can’t have that.”

That makes Paul chuckle and he stays where he is, rubbing his face against the soft towels as Sam walks away.

When Sam’s back, he crouches by Paul’s feet and removes the ankle cuffs. That’s not a nice feeling, but things get better very quickly when the familiar padded metal cuffs of the spreader bar are clipped around his ankles, the thick rod between them keeping his feet locked into position and his legs spread wide open.

Being locked in the spreader bar always makes Paul very aware of how exposed his ass is and his hole twitches with anticipation, eager to get filled up. Moaning against the towel, Paul feels his cock starting to ache, his whole body sinking deeper into that wonderful haze when he realizes he has no control over what Sam will do to his ass.

Sam walks away again and when he returns, he wastes no time rubbing slick fingers over Paul’s hole. No matter how often Paul fingers or fucks himself, it’ll never come close to being as good as Sam’s fingers and cock touching him there and he lets out an eager whine, desperate for Sam to fill him up.

“Hush, Crick. It’s okay. I know your hole’s been desperate for my fingers and my cock and it’s gonna get ‘em all.”

Right after the last word, Sam slides three fingers into him, stretching him open and filling him up with his thick fingers and it feels so amazing that Paul eagerly clenches around his fingers and lets out a loud groan, shifting back against his fingers.

Sam presses a hand against his back, keeping him against the table. “Don’t move. I get to decide how you get fucked and when, right?”

Letting out a choked whine, Paul nods frantically. Yes, yes, that’s right! That’s so much better than Paul fucking himself on Sam’s fingers. Well, except if Sam’s telling him to fuck his fingers. But if Sam wants him to stay still, that’s what he’ll do.

Thankfully, Sam doesn’t tease him. He thrusts his fingers into Paul’s hole, fucking him hard with his thick fingers, sending waves of arousal through Paul and making his eyes drift shut. The combination of Sam’s hand holding him in place, together with his legs and hands being restrained and Sam’s fingers fucking him are all amazing. But then Paul briefly opens his eyes and sees Sam’s dinner plate filled with food just a few inches from his face and he remembers that he’s naked and bent over the dinner table. Sam’s fingering his ass and Paul’s tied up and bent over the table where Sam’s going to sit down and eat and it’s all so incredibly hot.

Sam fingers him hard and heat starts to coil in his belly, radiating out through his entire body and Paul’s gasping and whining, shaking like a leaf. Then Sam reaches underneath him and fists his cock in time with the fingers that are fucking his ass and Paul’s arousal rapidly climbs higher—until Sam abruptly releases his cock and slows the thrust of his fingers; pulling him back from that edge.

Paul lets out a sob and he doesn’t know what desire is stronger: the desire to come or the desire to not come and keep this wonderful moment going for as long as possible. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to make that decision because Sam makes it for him.

“Take deep breaths. You’re not gonna come now. You’re not gonna come for a long while. I have big plans for your ass and your cock and they don’t involve you coming until I tell you to.”

Those words are a soothing balm on the heat rushing through him and together with rubbing his back and gently playing with his hole, Paul manages to gradually calm down. His hole is still rhythmically clenching around Sam’s fingers and he’s so glad that Sam hasn’t decided to pull them out when Paul was getting very wound up. He’s missed Sam so much and he hasn’t gotten enough of his fingers filling him yet.

Sam’s kissing his back, murmuring quiet words. “You’re being such a good boy. My amazing good boy. Keep breathing. I’m not gonna stop touching you and I’m not gonna pull my fingers out for a while, so you just relax. I know you missed my fingers and my hands.”

Paul lets out a soft sob and nods frantically against the towel as Sam nuzzles his back, the mid-day scruff on his chin lightly scratching his skin as Sam covers his back in kisses, his fingers a reassuring constant in his ass.

Being restrained and having Sam surrounding him like this fills Paul with such a sense of peace. Nothing bad can happen to him when Sam’s all around him and inside him. Sam’s filled him with food and love and now he’s filling him with his fingers and even more love as he holds Paul in place against the table. That sense of peace helps calm him down until he’s floating in his comfortable haze, but no longer feeling as wound up as before. His cock is still aching, but he’s no longer on the verge of coming.

“That’s my good boy. I’m so proud of you. I’m gonna pull my fingers out and I’m gonna fill it up with the plug while I eat.”

Sam slowly pulls his fingers out, but the loss is soothed by knowing that Sam will fill him right back up again, but with one of their favourite toys. Shivering with anticipation, Paul’s hole eagerly twitches and his legs tense, wanting to shift around, but stopping himself at the last second.

Sam walks away and returns a minute later and a familiar hard shape is pressing at his rim, easily sliding into him. Paul relaxes as the cool plug fills him up, so different from Sam’s fingers, but still feeling great.

Kissing his back, Sam rubs his ass and his thumbs pull his ass cheeks wider apart and the plug is pressed harder into him—Sam pressing against the base of it. It makes Paul moan, knowing that Sam’s staring at Paul in one of the most vulnerable positions he’s ever let Sam put him into: naked, restrained and bent over the dinner table with his legs spread wide open and his ass eagerly clenching around a thick toy.

He hears Sam suck in a shaky breath. “You look so damn good, Crick. If I didn’t wanna fuck you later, I’d come all over your ass in seconds.”

That sends a jolt of arousal through Paul and he lets out a groan, his hole twitching around the hard toy.

Then Sam kisses his back again and walks away. Paul watches him go with half-closed eyes. Being filled up with the plug is nice, but he’s calmed down enough that it’s not as arousing as it would have been five minutes earlier. But Sam’s in charge and Paul doesn’t get to decide what happens next. If Sam wants him to stay exactly where he is for the rest of the day, Paul will do it.

Sam heads into the bathroom and washes his hands before coming back out and sitting down at the table.

Without looking at Paul, Sam picks up his cutlery and cuts a piece of his steak, settling into eating. As Paul looks around the table, his eyes catch on a familiar shape lying right next to Sam’s water glass.

The plug’s remote control.

Paul stares at it and he has to press his lips together to prevent himself from begging Sam to turn it on. It’s not his decision when to use it. Sam completely ignores Paul being bent naked over the table just a few inches from him and he eats slowly, taking his time as if he were the only one at the table.

And sure enough, being ignored like this while his legs are spread apart and his ass is stuffed full of a toy and he’s restrained and naked just inches from where Sam’s eating rapidly makes that heat roll through Paul’s body. There’s just something so intense about being in such a submissive position while Sam’s fully dressed and casually eating.

The longer Sam ignores him, the more the heat builds until Paul’s cock is aching again and he has to keep closing his eyes so he stops staring at Sam casually eating. But when his eyes are closed, he instantly misses seeing Sam deliberately ignoring him and that’s not good either. So he alternates between keeping his eyes open and closed as he forces the rest of his body to stay still, waves of arousal slowly radiating through him.

All of a sudden, Sam reaches over for the remote and flicks it on before dropping it back on the table with the same casual air that he picks up and drops his cutlery. Sam’s attitude already sends a jolt of heat through Paul, but when the toy abruptly comes to life and starts buzzing inside him, arousal shoots through him and settles in his cock as he lets out a soft moan. His body’s shaking and his toes curl beneath the table as he quietly pants against the towel.

Sam takes a long drink of water and eats a few more bites before he grabs the remote again and flicks it up a few notches, dropping it to the table the same way as before. The buzzing intensifies and Paul’s breath catches from the waves of arousal that rush through him. The waves don’t have a chance to dissipate before the next ones roll in, filling him over and over again with heat and an aching need for release.

His eyes are squeezed shut and Paul’s gasping and letting out little whines, pulling hard at his restraints, which are keeping his wrists and feet locked into place. His ass clenches around the vibrating toy, but that makes the waves even more intense. But he also can’t stay relaxed because his entire body’s tense and shaking, buzzing right alongside the toy in his ass. His cock is throbbing and he wants to come so badly, but he also wants to stay here forever. Again, thankfully, that’s not his choice to make. That’s Sam’s choice.

And Sam—Sam’s still ignoring him. From time to time, Paul manages to open his eyes enough to look at Sam, because that’s even hotter than keeping his eyes closed and focusing on the intense vibrations in his ass.

Sam’s still eating and drinking, acting like he’s by himself and it’s just another ordinary day. Abruptly, Sam stands up and walks away from the table, leaving Paul whining, twitching and shaking where he is.

Then Sam’s back. With his phone in his hands.

Knowing what’s to come, Paul lets out a loud whine and Sam chuckles before he reaches underneath Paul and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock, fisting him hard. Moaning, Paul pants into the towels as his arousal sky-rockets again and he’s so close to coming, until Sam stops moving his hand.

Letting out a sob, Paul’s shifting around the table, shaking while Sam covers his back in soft kisses and murmuring against his skin as he gently holds his cock. “I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so good, Crick. So good. You’re gonna keep being good. I have some stuff to do still but you’re gonna keep being my good boy.”

Letting out a whine, Paul nods frantically. The only thing keeping him from flying to pieces is Sam’s warm, firm grip on his cock, but as long as Sam stays where he is, Paul can do it.

Giving Paul a big smile, Sam rubs his thumb along Paul’s throbbing cock, while his other hand grabs the remote and turns it up another notch.

As the vibrations increase again, Paul cries out, his entire body overcome with hard, fast waves of arousal. He thinks he’s going to die. In fact, he knows he’s going to die. He’s never been this turned on before in his entire life and that’s all before Sam presses his fingers against Paul’s lips.

“You gotta stay quiet for a few minutes. I gotta make a phone call.”

Paul gapes at him, shaking so hard that Sam’s water glass is rattling on the table surface.

Sam smiles at him and wipes his streaming tears off his face, lightly rubbing the back of his fingers over his sensitive cock. “I know you can do it. I know you can. And I’m gonna be so proud of you when you do it and you’re gonna be proud of yourself too.”

Paul really doubts he can do it, but if Sam has faith in him, then he’ll do his best.

Sam reaches over and wipes his tears off his face, smiling at him. “You’re being such a good boy. My good, precious Crick. Nobody else is allowed to be my good boy, just you.”

It takes a while, but Paul eventually gets accustomed to the intense buzzing of the toy. He’s still incredibly turned on, but he’s no longer teetering on the edge of coming and he knows he’ll survive Sam’s upcoming phone call.

Hopefully.

When Sam sees that Paul’s going to—hopefully—be okay, Sam picks up his phone and dials a number. Just the thought of Sam having a conversation with a stranger while only inches away, Paul is naked and tied to the table is enough to send another wave of heat through him and he lets out another sob, so happy that Sam knows exactly what he likes.

As Sam presses the phone to his ear, he gives Paul’s cock a squeeze and raises his eyebrows at him, a stern reminder to stay quiet. Pressing his shaking lips together as he sucks in air through his nose, Paul stares at Sam with wide eyes.

“Hey, there….I’m fine, how are you?” As usual, Sam’s tone is casual and polite, not giving a hint to what’s going on just inches from him.

Paul’s toes are starting to cramp from how tightly he has them curled up and he turns his face into the towel, muffling his whines as the toy buzzes inside him and Sam keeps playing with his cock, alternating stroking it or just holding it.

“I’d like to make reservations for two, please. For this Wednesday, say around six?”

Sam’s making them reservations. Sam’s making them dinner reservations in town, talking to an employee at whatever restaurant he’s called while Paul’s got a vibrating plug up his ass and he’s chained up and spread over the dinner table. His cock is aching so badly that a sob makes it out of Paul’s mouth before he can catch it, but thankfully, it’s muffled by the towel.

“Okay, great! You can put it under Deacon….Yeah—D-E-A-C-O-N.”

Paul keeps shaking and twitching, trying desperately to stay as quiet as possible while Sam keeps talking on the phone.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you so much….yeah, we’ll see you on Wednesday. Thank you. Yeah, you too.”

Sam drops the phone on the table, then several things happen all at once. The buzzing in his ass abruptly stops and Sam’s grip on his cock releases. That makes Paul let out a sob into the towels, but Sam’s hands are rubbing over his back, soothing him.

“We’re gonna get the plug out and I’m gonna fill you up with my cock, Crick.”

That makes Paul whimper into the towels for a completely different reason and he turns his tear-stained face to the side, smiling happily. The plug is slowly pulled out of him, leaving him empty and his hole clenching around nothing, but it only lasts for seconds until Sam’s cock is sliding into him, filling him back up.

Paul whines happily and closes his eyes. God, he’s missed Sam’s cock so much. Sam settles right into fucking him hard, pounding into him and his hips smacking against Paul’s ass as he thrusts into him at a fast, hard pace.

“Fuck, I almost came in my fucking pants when I was on the phone with her. Jesus,” Sam gasps out. One of Sam’s hands is pressing against his back, keeping him still while his other hand tangles in the carabiners keeping Paul’s wrists chained together and Sam pulls on them, reminding him that they’re there. “I missed this so damn much. I spent every night dreaming about what I’d do to you when I got home.”

A smile curls Paul’s lips and he lets himself drift. He’s still so tightly wound up that he can’t even feel his legs anymore but that doesn’t matter. Sam’s warm cock is fucking him and Sam’s pressing him against the table, his strong hands keeping him in place while he uses Paul’s body any way he wants.

Finally, Sam reaches under the table and wraps his hand around Paul’s throbbing cock one more time, but this time, he fists him hard and doesn’t stop as he whispers in Paul’s ear, his chest pressed to Paul’s back.

“I want you to come now, Crick. Lemme feel you come on my cock.”

That’s all Paul needs and he’s coming more intensely than he ever remembers coming before. He’s aware of his orgasm bursting through him, an explosion of warm, intense emotions that makes his entire body seize up as wave after wave rolls through him.

Once the bright explosion fades, he’s left floating in warm darkness. He’s being moved this way and that, but he can’t seem to control his own body. He can hear and feel that he’s breathing, but nothing else. Warm, gentle hands are on him, sometimes joined by a warm, moist cloth. He’s pulled into a standing position, which his body doesn’t appreciate, but there’s a solid body pressed up against him, soft skin touching his own. Quiet words are filtering through the hazy darkness surrounding him.

“You did such a good job. Everything’s okay. Just relax, I’m gonna take care of you. Your Sam’s gonna take care of you. Don’t worry about anything.”

Knowing that Sam’s taking care of him makes Paul smile and relax. He doesn’t really understand where he is and what’s going on, but if Sam told him to relax and that he’ll take care of everything, then he doesn’t have to worry about any of that.

The next thing he’s aware of is lying down on something very soft and comfortable. That’s followed by that warm, solid body pressing up against him, which feels familiar. A hand rubs over his stomach and chest before it gently wraps around his cock. His cock is still sensitive, but Paul instinctively knows that the hand wrapped around it will protect it and that his cock belongs to that hand. So if the hand wants to touch his cock, that’s good. In fact, that’s perfect.

That voice is still talking, whispering softly into his ear. “I’m so proud of you. You did so good and you can rest now. I’m gonna stay right here and I’m not gonna move, I promise.”

He instantly relaxes into the warmth surrounding him, the warm body behind him and the gently hand cupping his cock in front. He’s surrounded by love, he’s not alone and those are the best feelings in the world.

* * *

Paul spends a while dozing, his entire body relaxed and drifting in warmth and he gradually becomes more aware of where he is and what’s going on. Sam stays pressed up behind him and based on his breathing, he falls in and out of sleep too. When he’s awake, his hand holds Paul’s cock a bit firmer and he kisses Paul’s neck, sighing softly. It feels amazing, especially after their two week separation.

Sam rubs his nose against Paul’s ear. “Crick? You need some water?”

“Yeah,” Paul mumbles. He regrets his answer when Sam shifts away from him, but he doesn’t go far.

“Sit up a bit. You can lie down right after.”

His limbs have the strength of wet noodles and Sam needs to do most of the work to get Paul sitting upright. He stays slumped against Sam and sips from the straw that Sam slides between his lips, still drifting in his warm haze. He’s not nearly as deep as he was before, but doing something complicated like holding the water glass on his own is out of the question.

Sam kisses his neck after every sip. “That’s my good boy.”

That makes Paul smile, pride flooding through him. He really loves being Sam’s good boy. That seems like something he should share with Sam. “I like being your good boy.”

Sam chuckles softly and squeezes his arm that’s wrapped around Paul’s chest. “That’s good.”

“We’re a good match,” Paul mumbles before having another sip.

Pressing his smile against Paul’s neck, Sam nuzzles his skin and clings to him, while Paul happily slumps against him. He’d be happy never moving again, but eventually, Sam pulls the glass away and lies them down again. Sinking back into the warmth of the bed and the warmth of Sam behind him, Paul waits impatiently for Sam to get his hand back where it belongs.

When Sam touches his hip, Paul reaches up and pulls his hand down towards his cock, making Sam laugh against his neck and gently nip his ear. “I’m going, I’m going. Jesus.”

Wrapping his hand around Paul’s cock, Sam rubs it before stroking it a few times, sending tingles through Paul and making him gasp softly.

Sam presses his smirk against Paul’s cheek and rubs his thumb hard over the head of his cock. “My hand’s back where it belongs, huh?”

Oh, it definitely is and Paul couldn’t be happier. Sam’s hand on his cock and his body pressed against Paul’s feels more intense than it did before Sam left and there’s no doubt that their two week separation has a lot to do with that.

Maybe Sam’s thinking about the same thing, because he lets out a long breath as he’s rubbing Paul’s cock, which is starting to gain a bit of interest. “I missed you so damn much.”

Sighing softly, Paul reaches down and lays his hand on top of Sam’s as it slowly moves over his cock, sending gentle waves of arousal through him. “I know. I missed you too.”

“I don’t remember it being this hard,” Sam mumbles.

There’s no good response to that because Sam’s right. Maybe it was easier when they were younger because they hadn’t spent twenty years apart and they’d never truly appreciated what being in each other’s company gave them until they’d lost it.

When Paul doesn’t reply, Sam tightens his hand on his cock. “I don’t wanna leave you again. Tell me to stay home and I’ll call my boss and quit right now.”

Paul is really tempted. Sam’s putting the decision into his hands and it would be so easy for Paul to do what his heart wants and tell Sam never to leave him again. He’d do anything to keep Sam with him twenty-four hours day for the rest of their lives.

But his brain knows that wouldn’t end well. The fact that Sam’s trying to put the decision into Paul’s hands tells him that Sam’s still not sure how he feels about the whole thing and guilt is still one of the driving factors behind his decision to stay home. And that wouldn’t lead to good things.

The first thing Paul has to do is soothe that guilt. Being separated from Sam had been bad, but not unbearable. Really, getting to spend a whole week together is something most people don’t get. Compared to that, being separated for two weeks is hard, but it wasn’t impossible. In short, they’re both being a little over-dramatic. But Sam will take his cues from Paul and if he insists on Sam staying home, he’ll do it. But Paul’s realized that he can handle Sam’s work shifts. “I don’t want you to quit just cause we don’t like being separated.”

“Crick, we’ve put in our time. If you need me to be home and if I wanna be home, then we’re allowed to make that decision.”

Sighing softly, Paul gently pulls Sam’s hand off his cock and turns over. This is a conversation where they need to be on equal footing. Staring at Sam across the pillow, Paul puts his hand on Sam’s cheek, rubbing the prickly stubble with his thumb. “The two weeks were hard, but they weren’t unbearable. It’s not six months and we talked every single day. Of course I missed you, but I don’t want you quitting just because you convinced yourself that we can’t handle it. We can. We just proved it, didn’t we?”

Sam’s staring at him, a small frown on his face. “I guess so. Yeah.”

Paul smiles at him. “Yeah, we did. And you know what? I thought it was doable. Of course I’d rather have you around all the time, but I can share you with your job. I don’t need you to choose between us.”

Still looking worried, Sam chews on his lower lip. “I still don’t know how I feel about it.”

“That’s because you’re too busy feeling guilty over leaving me and worrying about me. I want you to stop that. If I couldn’t handle it, you’d know. If you ever wanna quit your job because that’s what you wanna do, then we can talk about that. But first, I want you to get past that guilt and worry. You don’t need them.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam stares at him. “You’re sure?”

Smiling, Paul nods. To his surprise, he’s at peace with the idea that Sam will leave again in just a few days. They’ll just switch back to their new routines and Paul will feel out of sorts for a few days until he settles into it again. “Yeah, I really am. And you know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you took care of me so well while you were gone. You’re the one who made it bearable. I thought I’d be miserable the entire time and I’d be calling you to beg you to come home within a day, but I didn’t because I wasn’t really alone. Sure, I missed having you physically here, but you did such a great job taking care of me that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

That’s not completely true, but Paul knows these are the only words that will help Sam’s guilt from leaving him fade away. Once that’s gone, Sam will be in a much better position to judge what how long he wants to stay in the field.

As Paul had hoped, Sam’s eyes light up and a smile spreads over his face. “So you were really okay?”

Smiling, Paul nods. “Yeah. I’d much rather have you within grabbing distance, but I can get used to it. I can share you with your job, Deacon. Don’t worry.”

Sam lets out a long breath, still smiling. “Okay. But you’ll tell me if you change your mind?”

“Of course. And you’ll tell me if you ever wanna reconsider being in the patch. But don’t make me be the only deciding factor. I’m happy with how things are.”

Sam’s smile grows even bigger and he rolls on top of Paul, settling his weight on top of him and bracketing his face with his forearms.

Grinning, Paul lets Sam’s warm weight press him into the mattress and wraps his arms around Sam’s back.

Staring down at him, Sam leans down and kisses him. “Speaking of how things are…”

“Uh huh…?” Paul mumbles in between kisses.

Sam doesn’t respond right away, deciding he’d rather spend more time kissing Paul while his hands run through Paul’s thinning hair. Finally releasing Paul’s spit-slick lips, Sam kisses his way across Paul’s face and down his neck. “So…you’re naked.”

Paul chuckles as he tilts his head back and digs his fingers into Sam’s back, loving the feel of Sam’s lips travelling down his neck. “Very observant, Deacon. Good job.”

Sam laughs, but he doesn’t stop kissing Paul’s neck, rubbing his stubbly chin over it and making Paul’s skin tingle. His cock is pressed between Sam and himself, which sends a little jolt of heat through him.

“You remember when I made that joke about you being naked all the time?”

The sudden change in topic sends waves of arousal through him. Pressing his hips up to get his cock as close to Sam as possible, Paul grins. “Yeah. I was kinda hoping you didn’t just mean it as a joke.”

But then his smile disappears because he realizes that wasn’t a very nice way to phrase things. That would put a lot of pressure on Sam and that’s not fair. Grabbing Sam’s head, Paul lifts it up and stares at him. “But if you did mean it as a joke, that’s okay too.”

Sam’s staring down at him, his eyes filled with heat. “I didn’t mean it as a joke.”

Paul’s grin is back in seconds and his stomach clenches with excitement. “So…I can be naked when we’re at home together? You’d be okay with that?”

A grin that mirrors his own spreads over Sam’s face. “Oh, I’d be okay with that. Very, very okay.”

The thought of spending all day and night—not including having to go down to get some work done—naked while Sam’s dressed makes Paul’s cock stiffen instantly and his breathing gets shaky. “Sam…?”

Sam’s staring down at him and he’s breathing harder too. “Spread your legs, Crick.”

Letting out a choked moan, Paul struggles to pull his legs out from under Sam and he spreads them, his hole already twitching as Sam shifts over him. Moments later, the thick head of Sam’s cock is pressing against his rim, still slick and loose from earlier and Sam slides right in, filling him up and making Paul’s breath catch.

Growling, Sam grabs Paul’s hands and presses them into the pillow, leaning his weight on them as he fucks into Paul. Pressing his forehead against Paul’s, Sam keeps staring at him, both of them trembling as Sam shifts onto his knees and starts pounding into him, fucking him hard.


	15. Chapter 15

“Crick?”

“Hmm?” Paul’s extremely comfortable right now. It’s halfway through Sam’s week off and they’re lying in bed, on top of the covers. As per their new agreement, Paul’s naked, sitting between Sam’s legs and leaning against Sam’s chest. Sam’s wearing sweatpants and a big sweater, which are constantly rubbing against Paul’s skin and serving as a reminder that Sam’s wearing clothes and Paul isn’t. They’re watching a hockey game and Sam’s been lazily playing with Paul’s cock just because that’s what Sam loves to do when it’s within reaching distance, which is a situation Paul’s more than happy to provide any day, any time.

Sam rubs Paul’s stomach with one hand while his other lightly holds his cock, his thumb gently rubbing it and keeping it in a semi-interested state. “Would you ever wanna play hockey again?”

Paul snorts, watching as one of the forwards on their team steals the puck away from an opposing player and takes off down the ice with it as the crowd in the stadium cheers. “Do I look like I’m still in my twenties?”

Sam presses a smile against Paul’s cheek and gives his cock a squeeze, which sends a quick jolt of arousal through Paul and makes his breath catch. “You look just fine from where I’m sitting.”

Chuckling, Paul feels that little glow light up in his chest, which always flares to life when Sam makes casual remarks about how much he likes how Paul looks, no matter his age. “Thank you and I’m happy to strap on my skates and head over to the lake with you any day you want.”

The forward has made it down to the opposing side of the ice with the puck and the idiot defenceman from the other team had come too far out of their zone and they’re too far back to cover their goalie, leaving the forward facing off against the goalie. Their forward manages to get a shot off at the goal, but it’s a weak one and the goalie easily blocks it and covers up the puck before it can rebound to give the forward another chance. The whistle blows and the play is dead.

“Kid needs to work on his dangling. That was weak,” Paul mumbles.

“Hmm. He should have stayed in the minors for another season. He’s not ready,” Sam says against Paul’s hair, his thumb sliding over the head of Paul’s cock and making him moan softly. “Anyway, I didn’t mean just you and me. You remember I told you about that rec team that I play on in Gibson?”

Unlike the last time when Sam had mentioned the team he played on, Paul’s less nervous about it. They’d gone skating together a few times and Paul really enjoyed having a stick in his hands again and tossing a puck back and forth. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Would you wanna join us?”

Honestly, Paul’s first reaction is still to say no. He doesn’t like making any big commitments during the winter season that would force him to be away from the shop for too long. Unlike the summer when they have a couple kids helping out, Leah and him are on their own during the winter. Leah’s husband doesn’t mind covering if they’re in a bind, but driving all over the place to play against other teams who live sprinkled all over the region isn’t a valid reason to miss work. “I couldn’t commit to playing on a team. I could handle spending hours on the bus and going all over the province for games when we were younger, but I can’t leave Wiley that often.”

“Oh, I can’t do that either. That’s the whole point of our team. We’re not part of an official league. Most of us work in the patch, so we’re in and out of town all winter. We just rent out the rink in Gibson once a week and meet up for a game. It’s all really casual. Whoever shows up, shows up. There’s no set teams and we don’t even keep score.”

Surprisingly, that sounds appealing. “Really?”

Sam’s hand tightens on his cock and rubs a little harder, apparently pleased by the hopeful tone in Paul’s voice. “Yup. It’s co-ed too.”

Heat is starting to tingle through Paul’s body and he’s spending more time watching Sam’s hand on his cock than the television, but he’s actually getting excited about possibly joining Sam’s team. “You guys need another d-man?”

“Yep. Especially me. I’ve really missed having my d-partner out there with me.”

Paul smiles softly, but then reality trickles through his excitement and arousal. “I haven’t played seriously in decades, you know that.”

“You’ll be fine. And don’t worry, we don’t have any wannabe pros. It’s all just casual and fun.”

His smile widening, Paul tries to keep his breathing even as Sam starts stroking his cock, the movements meant to rile him up. “Well, if you want your d-partner back, we’re gonna have to go get me some gear tomorrow.”

Sam’s arm tightens across his chest and he kisses Paul’s neck hard, smiling against his skin. “We’ll do that. How much time is left in the period?”

The question forces Paul’s attention back to the television screen. “Are you going blind, Deacon? The timer’s right there.”

Sam nips his ear lightly. “I wanna make sure you’re looking at that countdown.”

Paul grins, knowing that Sam’s up to something. Glancing at the timer on the screen, he sees they just have a few minutes left of second period. “Five minutes and thirty seven seconds.”

Abruptly, Sam shifts sideways, keeping his arm around Paul but releasing his cock as he grabs the lube off the bedside table. Shivers of excitement run through Paul as Sam coats his hand and wraps it around his cock. “I’m gonna get you nice and excited, just in time for intermission. Then I’m gonna spend intermission fucking you and I’m gonna come right before third period starts. I’m gonna keep you hard through third period and I’ll keep fingering you and playing with my cum in your ass. If you last all the way through, I’m gonna get you off right when the final buzzer goes.”

Grinning, Paul leans back against Sam, his eyes glued on the numbers on the screen as the seconds slowly tick down and the players zoom around on the ice below.

Sam squeezes his cock hard and starts fisting him, jerking his cock in hard, fast strokes and making Paul’s toes curl and his breath come out in a long whine.

“Good boy. That’s my good boy,” Sam whispers into his ear, his other hand rubbing over the letters written on Paul’s stomach. “I’m so damn happy you’re gonna be my d-partner again.”

Letting his eyes close, Paul shifts his hips up and smiles as he lets himself sink into the waves of heat radiating through him, listening to Sam’s voice in his ear and his solid warmth wrapped around him.

* * *

After parking his truck in the arena’s parking lot, Sam gets out and heads around to the back to lift out his own hockey bag as Paul joins him. Seeing Paul pulling his bag out of the back of a truck and hoisting it over his shoulder gives Sam a big sense of déjà vu. He can’t count how many times the two of them have done this together.

As they walk towards the ice arena’s door, Sam’s happy to see a small smile on Paul’s face. Paul had been a bundle of nerves at the beginning of the drive, up until Sam had pulled over on an empty road and sucked him off. That had nicely settled Paul and he seems to be more relaxed now.

Sam stays ahead of him as they walk inside and head towards the men’s changing room. Shoving open the door, Sam looks around at the group of players who are busy talking and laughing as they’re getting changed. He recognizes most faces, but there are a few newcomers too, which should help put Paul even more at ease.

But Sam’s eyes are looking for one person in particular, and when his eyes catch on a familiar figure sitting at the end of one of the benches, his goalie gear spread out everywhere, Sam grins. He hadn’t been sure if he’d show up today and Sam hadn’t wanted to spoil the surprise for Paul. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiles at Paul, who’s looking around with interest. “Hey, Becker?”

“Yeah?”

“Check out the ugly mug on that goalie down there.”

Sam watches with a grin as Paul frowns and looks around. He sees the moment Paul recognizes the goalie’s face. “Zizi?!”

Rashid glances up and his eyebrows fly up when he sees Paul. “Cricket?! Oh, my God! Did I fall through a time portal?”

Paul laughs as he wades through the people, bags and hockey gear cluttering up the small changing room. “If we did, you’d think all of us would get our old waistlines back, eh?”

Reaching Rashid, Paul drops his bag and pulls their former—and current—teammate into a hug. Rashid Azizi had immigrated from Iran with his parents when they’d all been in elementary school and he’d been their goalie all the way through the rest of their time at school.

Rashid’s grinning at Paul as he claps him on the back and hugs him tight. “I can’t believe this! Did you come with Deac?”

Pulling back, Paul nods, smiling. “Yep. Can’t leave you two out there to flounder on your own, can I?”

Rashid laughs. “How many times did I tell you that the three musketeers need to stick together to make the magic happen?”

“Well, the third musketeer’s been busy with other stuff, but now I’m ready to wade back into battle.”

“Yeah?”

Paul grins and holds up his hockey stick. “I even brought my best sword. It’s a little dull, but we’ll see what it can do.”

Rashid claps him on the shoulder. “Oh, we’re all rustier than we used to be. Don’t worry about that.”

Sam watches them, feeling so relieved that their reunion went well. He thought Paul would be happy to see Rashid again, but he hadn’t wanted Paul to feel even more nervous about the whole thing.

Looking away from Paul, Rashid raises his eyebrows at Sam. “Where did you find him, Deac?”

“Wiley,” Sam calls over with a smile.

“Wiley?!” Rashid frowns, looking back at Paul with a bewildered look on his face. “How? Why? When? _Why?_ Put your shit down, get changed and start talking.”

Laughing, Paul drops his bag on the floor while Rashid tries to make enough room to let Paul and Sam sit down.

* * *

Sam’s hands keep stopping in the middle of pulling on pads and lacing up his pants and his skates because he keeps being thrown right back in time as he watches Paul putting on his gear and talking to Rashid. Despite both him and Paul having been quiet teenagers, they always got along great with Rashid. Not only has the guy’s friendly nature always put them at ease, but they spent so much time together on the ice that they’d developed a good friendship off the ice too.

Rashid had left Gibson after graduation to go down south for university, but the north had called him back after a few years of working down south. He works as a directional driller in the oil patch and his schedule had luckily lined up with Sam’s for the last two seasons, allowing them to play together once a week and sometimes go out for a beer. It’s incredible that after life had separated them for decades, the three of them ended up in the same place where their friendship had started: a hockey rink in Gibson.

Watching Paul’s hands, Sam can tell his muscle memory is pulling on most of his gear without him having to think about it, but his hands seem a bit unsure about certain things. Sam deliberately slows his pace to match Paul’s, and Rashid is notorious for always being the last one out of the changing room so thankfully, Paul doesn’t seem too stressed about his slower-than-normal pace. From time to time, Sam has to stop himself from grabbing Paul’s hands and squeezing them to calm him down or giving him a kiss on the cheek. Those aren’t behaviours that are for the changing room.

One of the things Paul had been worried about was how to get changed in front of tons of other people. While Sam’s name being written all over him in permanent marker is great, part of what makes it great is that nobody else knows about it. To put Paul at ease, Sam suggested that they both show up wearing their long underwear underneath their jeans and sweaters so they can just throw the rest of their gear on top. They’ll be sweaty after the game, but they can last the short trip over to Sam’s apartment to shower and get changed there before heading back to Wiley.

It gives Sam such a rush to know that underneath the long black fabric covering Paul’s body, he’s covered in over a dozen markings, all declaring him as belonging to Sam. Sam always monitors Paul’s reaction closely when he mentions wanting to redo the letters when they start to fade. He doesn’t want them becoming something Paul feels forced to wear, especially if it leads to occasional difficulties, like they do here. But Paul’s eyes always light up and he constantly looks at the markings, so he seems to be enjoying wearing them as much as Sam enjoys putting them on him and seeing him wearing them.

* * *

Being on the ice with Sam and Rashid again is wonderful. Paul knows he’s rusty but he’s impressed at how easily most of it comes back to him.

When his team has the puck, he races up the ice, always glancing next to him to make sure he’s staying in line with Sam while also keeping an eye on their forwards and their progress with the puck. Whenever their forwards get boxed in, Paul’s ready for them to pass him the puck so he and Sam can pass it back and forth and keep it safe until their forwards are open again.

But when their team loses possession of it, that’s when the hard work begins. That’s when Paul throws himself into reverse and skates backwards as fast as he can, trying to block the advancing forward from getting close to their goal. It’s amazing how fast all of it comes back to him: swivelling his head to keep the forward, Sam and Rashid behind him all in view, listening to Sam’s shouted instructions and using his stick to try to poke the puck away from the forward.

Once they’re close to their own goal, Paul gets a bit more aggressive and uses his body as well as his stick to try to get the puck away from the forward and prevent him from passing it to a teammate or getting off a shot at Rashid. Sam will always yell over where he is so Paul will know where to pass the puck if he manages to grab it, and he always has to keep an ear out for Rashid’s voice from behind him when he yells out that Paul’s blocking his view and he needs to get himself and the forward further away from the crease.

The only difference between their old playing days and this is that they’re not allowed to do any body-checking, which is understandable. They all have bills to pay, which requires them to go to their day jobs and they can’t do those day jobs if they get too banged up playing hockey. So sadly, Paul can’t watch Sam slam opposing players into the boards like he used to, but he gets to enjoy the view when Sam’s trying to get the puck away from the forward he’s covering and Paul’s own forward is standing around, watching instead of keeping his feet moving.

Paul’s sweaty, exhausted and he hasn’t had this much fun in years.

* * *

Sam doesn’t play as well as he usually does because he spends too much time looking at Paul, but he can’t help it. Not only does he want to make sure that Paul’s doing okay, but he’s missed watching Paul racing around the ice and bulldozing his way through other players and trying to get the puck away from them.

After the game, they’re taking off their gear in the changing room and Rashid elbows Sam in the side as he’s undoing his shin pads. “You got time for a beer?”

Sam glances at Paul on his other side. “I don’t know. You up for it, Crick?”

Paul smiles as he’s pulling off his skates. “Sure. I gotta get showered first.”

“Yeah, me too.” Turning back to Rashid, Sam yanks off his shin pad and throws it towards his bag. “Crick and I are gonna get showered and changed and we’ll meet you at the bar.”

“Great! Hey, Cricket?”

“Yeah?”

“You coming next week? I know Deac’s in the bush next week, but I’m off this next rotation and I could use at least one of my fellow musketeers.”

Sam looks at Paul out of the corner of his eye but luckily, Paul’s smile stays strong. “Sure! Just because Deacon’s deserting us doesn’t mean we can’t give it our best shot, eh?”

Reaching around Sam, Rashid smacks Paul happily on the thigh. “That’s my Cricket! Excellent!”

Once they’re changed, Sam and Paul say good night to the other players around them and head out with their bags slung over their shoulders. Tossing their bags into the truck, Sam elbows Paul in the side. “So you had a good time?”

Paul gives him a soft smile. “I really did. It was great playing with you and Zizi again.”

“You don’t have to come next week if you’re not comfortable.”

Shaking his head, Paul reaches over and discreetly squeezes Sam’s hand. “I’ll be fine. Zizi’s there and the other guys were all nice. I think I’ll have a good time.”

Grinning, Sam slings his arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. “Good. Let’s go grab a shower and then we’ll go let Zizi talk our ears off for an hour. You can have a couple beers, I’ll nurse a root beer and then we’ll head home.” Leaning closer to Paul, Sam lets his grin get a little dirtier. “I’ve got big plans for you tonight, Becker.”

Paul’s smile grows and he bites his lip. “You gonna reward me for saving your ass when your forward got away from you and nearly scored on Zizi?”

“Oh, yeah.”

* * *

After showering at his apartment, they head over to the pub and spend an hour chatting with Rashid. They spend the time reminiscing about their high school days and hockey games and they chat about their current lives; cementing the reunion of the three musketeers.

Sam’s so happy with how today went and how happy Paul is that he can barely keep his hands to himself while they’re at the bar. But as soon as they’re in his truck and Sam’s heading out to the highway to drive them back to Wiley, Sam reaches over and rubs Paul’s cock through his jeans. As he’d predicted, Paul immediately parts his legs and lets out a soft breath, slumping in his seat with a smile.

Rubbing the soft bulge in Paul’s pants, Sam keeps his eyes on the dark highway as Paul’s cock thickens. When Paul lets out a quiet moan, Sam opens up his pants and pulls his stiffening cock out of his underwear and pants and wraps his hand around the thick, warm length, stroking it slowly.

“There we go. Nice and hard, just the way I like it,” Sam says, squeezing Paul’s cock and listening to him let out a shaky gasp.

It’s the perfect way to drive home.

* * *

“—then you swooped over and intercepted that pass before it got to the other forward,” Sam says, moving around the pucks that are sitting on Paul’s chest to demonstrate what Paul had done during the game.

Paul can feel the pucks being moved around, but he’s barely paying attention to what Sam’s saying and doing. He’s tied to the bed, his arms and legs spread out and his cock is throbbing.

Sam’s sitting next to him, rubbing the lube-covered rubber pucks through the mess on Paul’s stomach and smearing it all over his chest as he slides them over his nipples. Gasping for breath, Paul’s shaking as every slide of the pucks makes a new wave of arousal shoot through him.

“You grabbed that puck and you heard me call for it so you passed it over to me without even looking.”

The pucks slide around on his chest.

“That was brilliant! I was so proud of you.”

A shaky smile curls Paul’s lips and he stares at Sam, who’s looking down at his chest and grinning.

“And then we…hang on, gotta get these pucks slicked up a bit more.” Sam’s hands leave for a minute, until they’re back and lifting each of the pucks and coating them in more lube as Paul watches. When Sam’s satisfied, he puts the pucks back on Paul’s lube and cum-covered chest and gets them set up for the next play.

“Then we had that great face-off where our forward got the puck and sent it right back to me.”

The pucks slide around, rubbing over his nipples and sending warm tingles through Paul as he moans.

“But their forwards knew that would happen and they came at me hard so I passed the puck to you and you gave it right to our forward who was waiting by the crease. That was brilliant, Crick.”

The pucks stop moving and Sam wraps his hand around Paul’s aching cock, fisting it and making Paul whine as his toes curl.

“You did so good.”

Sam keeps playing with him for a while longer, sliding the pucks around and reliving the best parts of the game, until he leans over and kisses Paul’s gasping lips. “I think it’s time to clean up these pucks.”

Then Sam’s rolling off the bed and Paul watches him, trembling and wondering what else he has planned. Sam walks out of the bedroom but he’s back a second later, holding his hockey stick in his hands and grinning at Paul. “Let’s get these pucks cleaned up and get this ice smooth again.”

As Paul watches him with wide eyes, Sam stands next to him and carefully touches the tip of his stick’s blade to Paul’s stomach, sliding along his skin.

A jolt of heat races through him and Paul clenches his jaw to keep from coming. It’s not just hot because Sam’s doing whatever he wants while Paul’s tied up, but having Sam using the same stick that he does magical things with on the ice to do magical things on Paul’s naked body is mind-numbingly hot.

Sam’s watching his face and he looks a little worried, until Paul lets out a loud whimper and strains against the restraints, trying to press himself closer against the stick. That’s when Sam presses down harder and gently scoops up one of the pucks with the tip of the blade, flicking it away before he’s sliding the tape-covered blade over him again.

The blade slides back and forth over Paul, leaving his skin tingling wherever it touches as Sam twists and turns the tip of the blade, sometimes rubbing the whole flat blade against him and sometimes just using the tip to trace little pathways.

Once Sam has picked up and tossed away each of the pucks, he goes back to sliding the blade around Paul’s chest and stomach, focusing on rubbing it over Sam’s name written on Paul’s skin.

Paul doesn’t know what he likes more: watching the stick blade sliding over his skin, or closing his eyes and just feeling the path of it. But the best part is watching Sam as he smoothly twists the stick in his hands, easily tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other and changing his grip depending on what direction he wants the stick to move. Just the ease with which Sam’s doing the movements makes Paul’s arousal climb even higher. He’s always loved watching Sam stick handling, but having him do it on Paul’s naked body is a whole other thing.

“I’m really loving this. We should have started doing this years ago,” Sam tells him, his eyes glued to Paul’s trembling body.

Paul lets out a shaky laugh. “Better late than never,” he gasps out.

That makes Sam chuckle and he slides the blade down to rub right over Paul’s cock. His cock’s so sensitive that the tape dragging over it makes Paul’s breath catch as he strains against the restraints.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps out.

Sam presses a bit harder, rubbing the stick blade back and forth over his cock and his balls. He’s not stopping and not only is the friction pushing Paul close to coming, but it’s the fact that Sam’s not touching him with his hands. He’s just touching Paul’s cock with his hockey stick and that’s gonna make Paul come very soon.

When he lets out a panicked whine, Sam grins at him. “You ready to come? Lemme see you come, Crick. I want you coming all over my stick while I’m holding it.”

Then Sam presses the blade down harder and rubs the flat blade against his cock and the mixture of pleasure and hint of pain pushes Paul over the edge and his body tenses as he comes. Looking down, he watches cum spurt from his cock and Sam scoops up his cum with the tip of his blade and smears it over his cock as he keeps coming, his hips desperately pressing up to keep Sam’s stick against his cock as long as possible.

He’s gasping and groaning, shaking through his orgasm until he’s finally done and collapses against the bed. Sam’s slowed the movements of the stick, just gently pressing it against his cock. Paul would be happy having Sam keep his stick there for eternity, no matter how impractical that is.

Unfortunately, Sam eventually lifts the stick, but right after he drops it to the floor, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Paul, his knees digging into Paul’s armpits as he leans over him.

Sam’s eyes are shining as he grins down at him. “You did so good! You feeling good?”

A very satisfied smile spreads over Paul’s face. “You bet I feel damn good.”

“Good.”

Then Paul’s distracted by Sam’s hard cock, that’s just inches away from him. It looks so thick and Paul really wants it in his mouth—but what happens with Sam’s cock is Sam’s choice. Glancing up at him, Paul licks his lips and waits.

Sam’s grin grows wider. “You want my cock in your mouth, huh? I was gonna come on your face, but you’ve been so good. You can suck my cock for a little while before I come all over you.”

Letting out an excited breath, Paul eagerly parts his lips and Sam slides the tip of his cock into his mouth. The thick weight of it sits on his tongue and fills his mouth so nicely, allowing him to rub his tongue over the slit.

Sam lets out a shaky moan and reaches for the headboard with his free hand, which creaks in protest as he clings to it. His other hand is holding his cock steady as he stares down at Paul, gently sliding the tip of his cock in and out of Paul’s mouth. It means the world to him that Sam’s never pushed him about his terrible cock-sucking skills. From personal experience, Paul knows how amazing it feels to slide his cock fully into a warm mouth and tight throat, but Sam’s always been happy to play within the limits Paul’s body has set for them.

Having Sam’s cock in his mouth is as wonderful as it always is and Paul happily suckles on the tip, rubbing his tongue over the hard thickness. When Sam’s breathing gets shakier and his legs are trembling where they’re clutching Paul’s sides, Sam slowly pulls his cock out of Paul’s mouth.

“Good boy. That’s my good boy. You did so good. Close your eyes, Crick. I’m gonna come on your face.”

His lips still parted, Paul closes his eyes and relaxes. His hands and feet are bound and Sam’s weight is pressing down on his chest and against his sides. He’s surrounded by comfort on all sides and all he has to do is lie here and Sam will give him his cum, because he loves Paul and wants him to know that Sam will always take care of him.

He listens to Sam stroking his cock and groaning softly until his breath catches and the first bit of warm cum lands on his cheek, making Paul’s body tingle, despite how tired he is. He’s bracing himself, eagerly awaiting more of Sam’s cum, and he’s rewarded a moment later by some landing on his other cheek and over his nose.

Sam covers his face in his cum, taking care to cover as much of Paul’s face as possible. When he’s done, Sam shifts over him and gentle fingers glide over his face, smearing the cum around and rubbing it into his skin—Sam’s way of reassuring Paul that he belongs to Sam. Together with Sam’s name being written all over him, it makes Paul feel so loved and safe. Sam’s hands are eventually replaced with his lips as he brushes soft kisses all over Paul’s face, trailing along his sticky skin that’s been marked by him.

“You’re my amazing Crick,” Sam whispers against his skin between kisses. “I’d never give my cum to anybody else, you better know that. You belong to me and I’m gonna take care of you for the rest of our damn lives.”

And that makes Paul’s smile grow even bigger as he relaxes beneath Sam’s weight and kisses.


	16. Chapter 16

It’s just as sad having Sam leave for his second shift as it was the first, but to his pleasant surprise, Paul finds himself getting accustomed to his ‘Sam’s-in-the-bush’ routine faster than last time and slowly, they settle into the same two-weeks-in-one-week-out routine that they’d spent years living when they were younger. When Sam’s in the bush, Paul gets as much work done around the shop and the store as possible. He schedules deliveries to take place when Sam’s not there and takes as many shifts as he can so Leah will be willing to take more shifts when Sam’s home. It keeps Paul busy and makes the days go by much faster.

His evenings are spent talking to Sam on the phone; chatting about their days, watching hockey games, having sex or reading books together. Sam never forgets Paul’s request about not talking about how they miss each other and when Paul closes his eyes, he can pretend Sam’s sitting next to him while they talk. Every Thursday, Paul drives into Gibson to play hockey with Rashid and whoever else shows up and he calls Sam while he’s driving back home to tell him about the game. On the last weekend before Sam comes home, Paul gets his shopping done in Gibson and cleans up his house, getting things ready for their week off.

When Sam’s home, they usually spend most of the first day at home together. Paul uses Sam’s post-reunion nap to finish up things in the shop before taking the rest of the day off to be with Sam. They spend the rest of the week going everywhere together; shopping or playing hockey in Gibson, cooking, skating on Green Lake, working shifts in the shop or the store, watching hockey games on television and having lots of sex.

As the season gradually draws to a close, Paul finds himself feeling more and more comfortable with their routine. He’d still prefer to have Sam around all the time, but he does his best to accept their routine. For his part, Sam relaxes a bit more as the season continues, but he’s still unhappy about going to work. Whenever Sam brings up wanting to stay home, Paul reminds him that it’s Sam’s choice but he should only do it if he wants to. That always makes Sam frown and chew on his lip, which is a clear sign that he’s still torn about it.

But no matter how Sam feels about things, winter eventually ends as spring drifts into town. The warmer temperatures melt the snow that’s been piling up all winter and together with the rain storms that come through a few times a week, their frozen wilderness turns into a muddy swamp. Large parts of the oil fields are located in swamp lands that can only be worked on when they’re frozen, and as spring thaws the ground everywhere, the drill rigs slowly start being pulled out of the fields as the oil patch workers scramble to finish drilling their final wells before the swampy muskeg swallows their rig and everything on it.

Paul and Leah like to spend those days standing next to the highway, watching long lines of rigs crawling past, carrying enormous drill rig parts, heading towards storage facilities in the south where they’ll get some well-deserved maintenance and wait for winter to come again.

Sam’s rig is one of the last ones to pull out, but Paul forces himself to be patient. Once Sam comes home, he’ll be home until next winter and that thought keeps Paul calm enough that he doesn’t start running up the highway to pull Sam into his truck earlier.

The off season is wonderful. Once the rains have stopped, the snow has melted and the roads have dried, the temperatures soar up to the mid-twenties and stay there for most of the summer.

Unlike during the winter, Leah and Paul hire some high-school kids who live in Wiley to help out at the store and the shop, giving the kids some money and work experience, while it allows Leah and Paul to take a few weeks off here and there. Paul usually doesn’t take a lot of vacation, but he takes full advantage of it this time. He and Sam meet up with Rashid and spend a few days at Sam’s apartment in Gibson and they also go camping for a week.

Like they’d done hundreds of times in their youth, they strap Sam’s canoe to Paul’s truck, throw their camping gear and rifles in and take off into the wilderness. Paul drives them the four hours up to Neston where they eat lunch before Sam takes over and drives them off into the bush. After bumping along the dirt roads for three hours and keeping an eye on the kilometre gauge in the truck, they reach the kilometre one-seventy-one marker and turn off into the undergrowth, driving until they hit Neston Lake.

They park the truck, take out all their camping gear as well as the canoe and cover the truck with tarps to keep it safe. After filling the canoe with everything they’ll need, they push the canoe into the water and paddle across the lake, surrounded by nothing but the lake, trees, the mountains in the distance, sunshine beaming down and various insects buzzing around them.

After about an hour of paddling, they reach the other side of the lake, which is completely inaccessible by vehicles or planes. It’s a spot they’d found during one of their first camping trips together when they’d wanted to find a private spot where they wouldn’t have to worry about prying eyes.

Once they hit land, they do a quick exploration and don’t find any old fire pits, garbage or other tell-tale signs that anybody has been in their spot recently, which means it’s still a perfect place to camp. They set up their tent and cook dinner together, sitting on their fold-out chairs and staring out at the lake as they eat. That first night, Paul builds a fire and Sam fucks him on a blanket, the fire warming his side as Sam warms the rest of him. Afterwards, they spend a few hours sitting by the fire, Paul leaning against Sam, who’s leaning against a tree and Paul roasts marshmallows which Sam feeds him.

They spend their days fishing, swimming and lying around in the sunshine. Their only connection to society is a satellite phone which is only for emergencies so it’s very easy to forget about the rest of the world and just enjoy each other’s company as they soak in the beauty of the wilderness around them.

They don’t see any other human beings and thankfully, the birds and other wildlife around them don’t care about what they’re doing together. Sam loves tying Paul up when he’s lying on a blanket, using four sticks that they’d pounded deep into the ground to keep him in place and leaving him there for a few hours. He’ll sit next to Paul and tease him; sucking his cock and kissing him all over and tracing the black letters of his name on Paul’s skin. It drives Paul crazy and he loves it. Other times, Sam will tie him up between two trees, keeping his arms and legs spread while he spends ages fucking him and playing with his cock and not letting Paul come until he gives him permission.

Despite spending every minute of every day together, they never tire of each other’s company. They never run out of things to talk about and they stay up until late at night, lying on the blanket next to the fire and staring up at the stars before finally crawling into their tent for sleeping.

When summer slowly turns to fall, they spend a few days going hunting and they manage to get a big elk bull, which will provide them and Leah’s family lots of meat for the winter and save them money on their grocery bills.

As the days get cooler and morning frost coats the grass, it’s slowly time to get ready for the new drilling season. Paul loved the off-season as much as Sam did, but having spent so much time together has made him much more relaxed about Sam being gone again. Sam still seems a bit torn over going back to work, but they decide to take things one season at a time.

Sam attends the usual pre-season safety meetings and renews his safety certifications, which always reminds them both that the drilling season is just around the corner. When snow starts to fall and the ground has frozen enough to make the oil fields accessible again, it’s time for Sam to head back out and they settle back into their two-weeks-in-one-week-out routine.

As the season before, Paul does his best to stay positive and not give Sam any reason to feel guilty about leaving him. Honestly, Paul feels much more relaxed about the whole thing. This is their life and Paul loves it, even if he has to live without Sam being by his side for short stretches.

* * *

To Sam’s surprise, his enthusiasm for going back to work after the off-season is even less than usual. His waning enthusiasm for drilling out in the bush is something he’s been struggling with since last season, but the off-season usually recharges his batteries enough. Or at least, Sam had thought he’d recharged them enough. But within just a few two-week stints in the bush, he’s struggling with the same issues he had last season.

“The days just last forever,” Sam complains to Paul when they’re talking on the phone on his first night back on the rig.

Paul chuckles softly. “If you’re bored, you can ask the boys if you can do a couple rotations on the floor. Hauling drill pipe around will keep you nicely distracted, eh?”

Sam makes a face. “I tried that and it doesn’t help. I’m slower than I used to be and I can’t handle the cold snap as well as I used to. Makes me feel like a fool when I jump in and end up doing the work slower than the other guys.”

“You’re getting older, Deacon. It happens to all of us. I used to do eight hours in the shop in 30 below and it was fine, but I can’t do it anymore. When I try it, I’m slow, I don’t feel good and I’m out of sorts for days afterwards. My body just can’t handle the cold like it used to and I think it’s age. We’re in our late forties now. You can’t expect your body to be the way it was when you were in your twenties.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “I hate being slower than the roughnecks.”

“Look on the bright side; they don’t pay you to be faster than them. Leave that work for the young guys. You’ve put in your time. It’s your job to handle the controls and give the orders.”

“But even standing out there sucks.” Well, it’s never pleasant to stand outside for hours in -35 degree weather, but he’s spent most of his life with these winters. The cold slows everyone down, but it’s never slowed him down the way it does these days.

“It’s always sucked, but everybody has a harder time with the winters when they get older. It’s not your fault.”

Chewing on his lip, Sam glances at the time on his phone and realizes that in just a few hours, he has to go back out there and spend another twelve hours in the bitter cold. And he really, really doesn’t want to. The money used to be a good motivator and Sam used to love doing the physical work, but he doesn’t care about those things anymore.

Without thinking about it, he blurts out: “I don’t know if I wanna keep doing it, Crick.”

To his surprise, Paul doesn’t immediately tell him to pack his bags and leave the rig right that second. “Don’t make a rash decision right now, Sam. Wait until the cold snap is done. We’re gonna go back up to minus 18 on Tuesday. Finish the shift and see how you feel when you’re home.”

Sam wants to toss his stuff into his truck and go home right now, but Paul’s right. He shouldn’t be making rash decisions during a cold snap. If he’s at home with Paul and still feeling the same way, he can make his decision then. “Okay, I’ll finish the shift.”

“Okay, good. And when you’re home, we can reassess how you feel.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam smiles down at his phone. “I really appreciate that you’re not jumping all over this and telling me to come home right now. I know you want to.”

Paul chuckles. “Trust me, I’m really tempted to drive up there, stuff you into my truck and toss your hard hat into a ditch.” Then he grows serious again. “But I can’t be the reason why you quit. If you change your mind, you’ll be conflicted about it and you’ll blame me and that would wreck everything. But if you really think things through and you decide you’re done with the patch for good, then you can hang up your hard hat.”

Chewing on his lower lip again, Sam decides he likes this plan. He likes that Paul has completely removed himself from the situation. If Sam wants to keep drilling for a few more years, Paul will support him but if he decides he’s done, Paul will support that too. But ultimately, the decision whether to leave the patch for good rests with Sam. “Okay, we’ll see how I feel once the weather’s warmed up.”

“That’s a good plan.” Sam hears the smile in Paul’s voice and he knows Paul’s just as excited about the idea of Sam quitting the patch for good.

Once he hangs up the phone, Sam spends a while staring around his tiny, barren room. Is he really ready to call it quits after this shift ends? Is he ready to never come back to the rig?

He remembers how much he’d hated his office job down south and how happy he’d been to get back to working on the rig when he moved back up north. But Sam realizes he’d probably been happy to settle back into that because being on the rig had been the highlight of his life back then. He didn’t have a relationship that he’d miss or a home that he’d be desperate to get back to.

Now, that’s all changed. He’s happier spending time in Wiley with Paul than he’s ever been on the rig. Technically, Paul’s home isn’t his home and Sam has no idea if Paul would even want Sam to move in with him, but there’s nothing wrong with pretending that Paul’s home is his home—as long as Sam does that in the privacy of his own head where he isn’t putting pressure on Paul or making him uncomfortable. Even if Sam isn’t officially living with Paul, he spends so much time in Wiley and he loves Paul’s cozy little home so much that it’s another big reason why working out in the bush has lost its appeal.

The more he thinks about this shift potentially being his last and not having to leave Paul again and getting to spend as much time living in Paul’s home as Paul allows, the more excited he gets. But maybe Paul’s right and the bad weather is influencing him too much. So he’ll do what Paul suggested and wait until he’s home to reassess things.

* * *

Tossing the last empty box onto the dolly, Paul steps back from the chips display and verifies that he’s put everything into the right spot.

It really is strange not having Sam by his side after the long off-season, but if Sam wants to keep drilling, Paul knows he’ll get through it. He’s very excited about the possibility of Sam wanting to hang up his hard hat for good, but he doesn’t let himself get carried away with his fantasies. It’s dangerous to let himself spend too much time dreaming about how wonderful it’ll be if Sam does decide not to go back and that this shift is the last one Paul will have to get through. It’ll be a dream come true if it does happen, but if Sam changes his mind and decides to finish the season, it’ll be much harder to get through it if he’s mentally set himself up for Sam staying home. So it’s best to avoid thinking about it.

When he’s satisfied that the chips are where they’re supposed to be, he pushes the dolly loaded with the empty boxes out to the recycling bin. Unlocking the bin, he lifts up the lid, watching the layer of snow on it slide off the back as he raises it up and locks it into place. After tossing the flattened boxes into it, he closes and locks the bin before poking his head into the store. “Leah?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is coming from the direction of the cash register, which Paul can’t see over the shelves between them.

“I’m gonna take a leak and then I’ll be in the shop.”

“You gonna finish putting on those winter tires on the last three trucks?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Stepping out of the store, he pushes the dolly through the snow and leaves it in the shop before jogging up the steps to use his bathroom. There’s a bathroom in the store for the public, but Paul prefers the warmth of his own bathroom.

Unlocking his door, he stamps the snow and gravel off his boots and steps inside, hurrying towards his bathroom. He’s had to pee for a while, but he wanted to finish restocking the shelves before the morning rush finished moving through Wiley.

Standing in front of the toilet, he unzips and pulls out his cock. Since it’s close by, he lifts up his jacket enough to see the black letters of Sam’s name written on his stomach, which makes him smile. As usual, Sam had re-traced every single letter on his body the night before leaving, making sure the ink would stay dark and solid while Sam’s gone.

Holding his cock with one hand, Paul uses his other hand to gently trace the letters of Sam’s name on his stomach. He’s focused on the letters as he pees, but for some reason, his eyes are also drawn to the tip of his cock and he watches the thin stream of piss arching through the air and splashing into the toilet bowl.

He usually tries to avoid watching himself piss. Doing a few quick glances for directional accuracy is fine, but he usually avoids watching the whole process because it always brings back a confusing mix of emotions.

If he allows himself to watch himself peeing for too long, he’ll always get that clench in his gut; that old, desperate desire that’s stuck with him for decades. Unfortunately, that old desire had completely ruined his relationship with Sam the first time around, so Paul always firmly tells himself to stop thinking about it completely. His relationship with Sam is perfect and he doesn’t need this weird desire being added into it. It would be nice, but it’s something Paul has to live without.

Peeing is just a natural function that he and Sam have to do multiple times a day and it can’t go any further than that. Sam had made it clear last time that he wasn’t interested in combining that particular act with what they do together behind closed doors. Whenever Paul starts entertaining thoughts about bringing it up again, Sam’s words from twenty years ago echo in his head, a stark reminder that his thoughts are not okay.

“ _That’s disgusting! What the fuck?! I can’t believe—Becker, just because we do some weird shit together doesn’t mean I’m gonna…I’m gonna…that’s fucking disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking disgusting freak!”_

Sighing softly, Paul finishes peeing and tucks himself back in and zips up his pants before leaning over to flush the toilet.

He wishes he could just forget about the whole thing, but he knows why he can’t. Having Sam mark him is one of the most important parts of their relationship. Sam writing his name on Paul and covering Paul with his cum are things Paul loves so much. It makes him feel so loved, so appreciated. It means the world to him that Sam is willing to give a part of himself to Paul and lay claim to him. He’s willing to tell the world—not literally, but metaphorically—that Paul is important enough to him to mark him in a very physical way that words just can’t substitute for.

Having Sam pee on him would be just as wonderful, if not more. Paul’s spent ages thinking about it and he thinks it would probably be a little less meaningful than Sam writing his name on Paul’s skin, but it would be even more meaningful than Sam coming on him. It’s just a matter of quantity—Sam’s cum is great, but piss could cover a lot more of Paul. It’s not as thick as cum either, so the piss would drip and cover him in warmth.

Paul closes his eyes, clutching the sink counter with his hands as his cock twitches with interest. He can picture it so clearly in his head: he’d be kneeling right here in the bathroom, his knees spread wide open and his hands tied behind his back and Sam would piss on him, carefully directing the warm stream to cover his chest and letting it drip down to warm his stomach and finally, his cock. His whole front would be marked by Sam, the warm fluid dripping from his legs and trickling down his chest.

It’s something Sam could never achieve with his cum and Paul wants it so badly that thinking about it always makes him want to cry. Moaning softly, Paul’s clenches his jaw and slowly forces his eyes open, staring at himself in the mirror. “Why the hell can’t you let this go, Becker?” he asks himself softly.

But that’s a stupid question. He knows why he can’t let it go. Not only would it be a dream come true for him, but Paul’s never really understood why Sam had such problems with it. Sam’s never had issues covering Paul in cum and to Paul, having Sam piss on him would be very close to that. He’d thought about it so often, re-playing Sam’s words in his head and he just can’t understand why Sam was so repulsed by the idea. Maybe it’s because cum is so strongly connected to sex and piss isn’t?

Paul knows that the best course of action would be to continue working hard to move past this and forget about it. Unfortunately, he can’t _not_ pee and every time he’s doing it, he’s reminded about this whole issue.

Another reason he can’t stop thinking about it is because he really wants to understand what Sam’s problem with it was and whether he still thinks the same way. Sam’s words from their conversation in his truck before they’d gotten back together keeps coming back to Paul every time he thinks about this whole thing.

“ _What you wanted to do was a little…unusual, but—”_

It’s that little ‘but’ that always lights a tiny flame of hope in Paul’s gut. Sam had been the one to bring this whole issue up again, not Paul. And Sam hadn’t put his foot down and declared that he never wanted to talk about it again. Paul’s the one who put his foot down because he’d been terrified that Sam would freak out and leave again. Sam had respected Paul’s decision so far and he’d never brought it up again. If he was really against it, wouldn’t he have wanted to talk about it to make sure they’re on the same page?

And there’s that little ‘but’…

Maybe… _maybe_ Sam’s opinion about the whole thing has changed over the last twenty years…?

Paul makes a face at himself in the mirror. It’s so stupid that he keeps wasting hours debating this issue in his head. He’s stuck in neutral, refusing to shift into forward or reverse and it’s not going to get him anywhere. He has to either forget about this whole thing once and for all or he has to talk to Sam about it and figure out where Sam stands.

But the thought of talking to Sam about it again is terrifying. Things are going so well for them and Paul never wants to lose what they have. And that’s the problem. Because things had been going so well for them before and Paul never wanted to lose what they had before and one little conversation had blown everything up.

But hadn’t Sam promised not to do that again? And hasn’t Sam been true to his word so far? Paul had already brought up so many topics on his own, like using condoms, using restraints, having Sam write all over him with the marker. Sure, Paul hadn’t done a great job talking about these topics, but he’d brought them up. Even if he hadn’t brought them up purposefully—like when he’d automatically held his hands behind his back the first time they had sex after getting together—but Sam had always been willing to discuss things and he’d always been so kind.

The first time around, Paul had never asked Sam to try new things. He’d never been the one to suggest things. But this time, they’ve been doing things differently.

So the evidence is all there. Paul should feel confident enough to bring this topic up again and see what Sam’s reaction is. But no matter how confident he _should_ feel…Paul’s terrified. And that fear always, always, _always_ replaces that desperate want in his heart and makes him vow never to bring it up again.


	17. Chapter 17

The whole peeing situation is so distracting that Paul’s still feeling off when Sam calls him that night. Neither of them are in the mood for sex, so they’re just watching the hockey game that’s playing. It’s snowing hard outside and Paul’s not looking forward to spending tomorrow shovelling tons of snow, which is adding to his general bad mood.

And when Sam tells him he has to go pee for a second, Paul is officially done with this entire day. He stares at the television without seeing it as he imagines Sam standing at the urinal, covering the lucky basin with his warm piss. And now Paul’s jealous of a urinal.

Great.

He can’t decide where to cry, laugh or hit himself in the head until he’s forgotten about this whole thing. Unfortunately, he’s so busy thinking about his stupid jealousy and his stupid desire that he doesn’t hear Sam when he gets back on the phone.

“Hello? Crick? Did you fall asleep? I know the game isn’t that exciting, but come on. We’re barely into the second period. There’s still time for things to get good.”

Shaking his head, Paul sighs softly and blinks hard, staring at the television and checking the score. Still zero-zero, so he hasn’t missed anything. “No, sorry.”

There’s a pause from Sam’s end for a minute, until Sam’s voice comes over the line and he’s lost that easy-going tone from earlier. “Turn off the television.”

It’s the tone that always makes Paul move without making the conscious decision to do it. It doesn’t even occur to him to ask why Sam’s asking him to turn off the television. Sam told him to do it, so Paul will do it. He grabs the remote off the mattress and turns off the game.

“It’s off,” he mumbles in the direction of his flip phone that’s lying on his stomach.

“Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t gimme some shit about everything being fine. You’ve been off ever since we started talking.”

Paul sighs. There’s no way he can talk to Sam about what he needs to talk to him about. Not when Sam’s so far away. If Sam were closer, then maybe Paul would screw up the courage to do it. If Sam’s within grabbing distance, Paul could beg and plead for him to stay and even grab onto him to stop him from leaving. But if Sam decides to take off when he’s already hundreds of kilometres away, Paul has no chance. “It’s not important.”

“You bet it’s damn important if it’s distracting you from watching hockey. Talk to me. Please.”

Staring at the dark television, Paul mulls over what to say to sufficiently soothe Sam but still keep unspeakable things unspoken.

But apparently, Paul’s taking too long to respond because Sam beats him to it. “Okay, I’m coming down. I’ll see you in five hours.”

That shakes Paul out of his musing and he frowns, staring down at his phone. “What?!”

“Something’s wrong with you and you won’t talk to me over the phone, so we’re gonna talk in person. I’ll see you in five hours. Get some sleep cause we’re gonna talk as soon as I’m in the door.”

Sam’s crazy. “Deacon, you can’t leave in the middle of your shift. Besides, it’s already dark out and you sure as hell aren’t driving in this weather.”

“You think I give a shit about my job when you’re unhappy, Becker?! And yeah, I forgot about the snowstorm, but I’ve driven through worse. I’ll see you in seven hours instead of five, but I’m still coming down.”

The worst part is that Paul knows Sam will do it. He’ll absolutely quit his job and drive through the darkness and a snowstorm to get to him all because he’s being mopey. It reminds Paul for the millionth time how lucky he is and how much he loves Sam. How many people have somebody in this world who would do something like that for them? Paul doesn’t _want_ Sam doing any of those things for him, but just the fact that Sam would means a lot to him.

But now he’s stuck. If he doesn’t talk to Sam right now, Sam will quit his job and drive through dangerous conditions just to talk to him in person. And if Sam gets here, he’ll make Paul talk anyway. So Paul has no choice about the talking part, but he definitely wants to save Sam’s job and keep Sam safe. “Deacon, stop. If I talk now, will you stay where you are?”

“Sure, but I already put my boots on and I’m not taking them off until we’re done talking.”

Paul draws in a shaky breath, thinking fast. He can’t talk to Sam about the actual peeing thing when they’re separated by hundreds of kilometres. If he ever gets the guts to bring it up, it’ll happen when Sam’s home and Paul’s wrapped in his arms and he can judge from Sam’s body language how he’s responding to the situation. But he has to give Sam something or the crazy man will actually quit his job and get himself killed driving through a blizzard. “I’ve been thinking about something. Something that’s hard to talk about.”

“Okay…” Sam’s tone is curious but still concerned.

“I…” Fuck, this is so hard. His hands are shaking and his heart’s racing, even though he’d already decided he won’t tell Sam the whole truth. “I wanna try something new. Well…not brand new. Something we talked about before. But never did. Cause things didn’t go well. After we talked.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment and Paul squeezes his eyes shut as his heart drops through the floor. Here it comes. Once again, Paul couldn’t keep this stupid fantasy hidden well enough and now, Sam’s going to make up some excuse to leave again. Maybe he’ll be kinder than he was before, but he’ll still—

“Is this is about that…misunderstanding we had 20 years ago?” Sam asks softly, his tone cautious.

Paul’s shaking too hard and his jaw is clenched shut, so he can’t answer.

But maybe Sam can hear his shaky breathing because he doesn’t wait for Paul to force out an answer. “Crick, calm down, okay? Please. I promise, it’s okay.” Sam’s tone is so soft and kind, but Paul’s still shaking, his heart thudding in his chest as he braces himself for Sam’s polite excuses. He’s gonna lose everything all over again and once again, it’ll mostly be his own fault.

“Paul Becker, whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m happy to talk about it with you.”

That makes Paul’s breath catch. That’s not the response he’d expected to hear.

“Crick, I love you. I love you so damn much and leaving you 20 years ago was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I’m not gonna be that stupid again, I promise. And I don’t want you to be scared to talk to me about anything. Maybe there are some things we won’t be on the same page about, but we’d talk about it. I wouldn’t say dumbass, hurtful things like I did last time. I’m gonna listen and then we’re gonna talk about it and we’ll reach some kind of compromise. But Crick, I promise that I’m not leaving. There’s nothing you could ever say that’ll make me wanna leave again. Nothing. I love you and I’m gonna do my damn best to make this work.”

Sam’s words immediately help to calm the anxiety that’s been twisting in Paul’s gut. They rarely say the words ‘I love you’ to each other, since they have so many other ways to bring that message across. They only use that phrase when they want the other person to really feel the impact of it.

And Sam’s said it three times in that short speech.

Sam’s words sounded so genuine and his tone had been so kind…but despite Paul’s anxiety no longer being through the roof, he’s still worried. It sounds like Sam knows what Paul wants to talk about, but Paul really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.

But his silence is continuing to worry Sam. “You okay? Say something. You want me to come home? You want me to read to you? You wanna watch the game and I’ll provide my amazing commentary?”

His jaw has eased up enough that Paul can finally open his mouth. “I’m—I’m okay,” he whispers.

“You don’t sound okay.”

His hands are still shaking a bit and Paul takes a deep breath. “I’m really scared to talk about this. Even if you say it’ll be okay, I’m still…” He has no idea how to put his anxiety into words that Sam will understand.

Sam sighs softly. “I know and I’ll always be mad at myself cause you being scared is my fault. I promise, I’m not gonna do that ever again. That was cruel and stupid and it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. But if you don’t wanna talk about it now, that’s fine. But I’m ready whenever you are.”

A million thoughts are rushing through Paul’s head. On one hand, he wants to ask Sam to pretend this entire conversation never happened. He wants things to go back to the way they were ten minutes go and he’ll keep trying to forget about this whole thing. On the other hand, he really wants to know if Sam’s willing to give his idea a try because if Sam’s into it, it’ll be amazing.

But no matter what, Paul can’t talk about this anymore right now. If Sam sounds unsure about it, Paul will spend the rest of his shift having a long, drawn-out heart attack by worrying over whether Sam will come home or not.

“Crick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I say one thing about it and then I won’t mention it again until you’re ready?”

Once again, that anxiety wells up in Paul’s heart and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay,” he whispers.

Please don’t say you don’t wanna do it and you think it’s weird and you don’t ever wanna—

“I spent twenty years thinking about it and I wanna try it. I know why you like the idea and I realized I’ll probably like it too. If you’d rather never talk about this again, that’s fine. But I don’t want you spending the rest of my shift having a damn heart attack cause you’re scared that I’m thinking up a kind way to tell you I’m not interested or worse, that I’ve changed my mind and wanna leave you. That’s never happening.”

Paul freezes. He blinks. Sam wants to try it…? Sam realized he’ll probably like it too…?

“You like the idea?” Paul whispers, his voice shaking.

“Yep. I really do. I love marking you with the pen and my cum. This is the same thing, isn’t it? I’m gonna be honest and say that it didn’t…appeal to me at the beginning. But then I realized it’s really no different from using cum. I was worried that it would be disrespectful to you, but—”

“It’s not,” Paul breathes out. “It wouldn’t be to me. Maybe to other people, but not to me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. A lot of people think coming on somebody’s face is disrespectful too, eh? And we think that’s damn hot. So I’m happy to try it whenever you want. Maybe you won’t like it once we do it, maybe I won’t. Maybe we’ll have to make some adjustments. Or maybe we’ll both love it and I’ll be downing buckets of tea for the rest of our lives so I’m ready to go whenever you want.”

And that finally makes the last of Paul’s anxiety melt away and he bursts out laughing.

Sam chuckles. “There we go. That’s the sound I’ve been waiting to hear. We’re gonna be okay, Crick. I promise, I’m not gonna fuck up again.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Paul actually finds himself believing it. Sam’s entire attitude during this conversation has been so different from twenty years ago. When they were younger, Sam had treated their relationship as mostly fun and games. Sure, they had cared about each other, but they’d never had serious discussions about things and Sam had never asked Paul for his opinion about things.

The way Sam’s treated this whole conversation reminds Paul of how they usually plan things out when strategizing for hockey games. During games, the fact that they were partners with equal say in everything had been something Sam had accepted from day one. Their sexual relationship had always been one-sided and neither of them had ever attempted to make things more equal. While Paul likes Sam staying in charge while they’re having sex, he realizes it wasn’t healthy for them to maintain that imbalance throughout their entire romantic relationship. Maybe that works for some people, but it didn’t work for them.

Now, Sam’s treating their entire relationship the same way he’s always treated their d-partnership. Paul’s an equal partner and if he’s feeling unsure about expressing his opinions, Sam will be kind and encouraging and make it clear that Paul’s opinion matters to him.

It makes Paul think that this could actually work out. He’s no longer just wishing for a long-term future with Sam, but he’s actually pretty confident that they’ll have a future. For the first time, Paul finds himself fully trusting Sam again. That realization makes him smile and before he’s even aware he’s doing it, his mouth opens and he’s blurting out something random again. “Hey, you got room on that key chain of yours?”

But unlike twenty years ago when he’d brought something up out of the blue, he’s not worried over Sam’s reaction. Sam will either say yes or no but he’ll be kind about it and they’ll discuss it.

Sam’s quiet for a moment, but Paul’s not worried over the silence. Using his newfound bravery, Paul smiles in the direction of his phone. “It’s okay if your key chain’s a bit full, I can wait. Or if it’ll never have room, that’s okay too. I just thought you might like being able to come in without having to wait for me to open the door.”

Sam sucks in a shaky breath. “Would the key just be for door opening?”

Paul grins. Sam sounds hopeful and that’s a great sign. “It can be for whatever you want.” But then practical considerations pop into his head and caution creeps in. “Well, you know my place is pretty small so I understand if you don’t wanna be here all the time, but I’d make room for you. If you wanted me to.”

“Are you sure?” It’s now Sam whose voice is faint.

“Absolutely. I made room in my heart for you, Deacon. Making room for you in my house is a lot easier. But it’s your choice. I know you like your apartment in Gibson and it’s not really convenient to be here in Wiley and my place is kind of small, but I—”

“I’d be honoured to live with you.”

Paul’s grin grows bigger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d live in a God damn corner if that’s the only place you have for me and I’d piss outside if I had to.”

Paul can’t help but think of the double meaning behind Sam’s last words and he can’t stop the dirty chuckle that comes out of his mouth. “You pissing outside really doesn’t fit with the plans we just finished discussing.”

And then it’s Sam turn to laugh.

Paul’s never felt this happy while Sam’s hundreds of kilometres away, and that’s a good sign too.

* * *

Checking the time for the millionth time, Paul does the math in his head. Three hours and forty minutes until Sam’s home.

He’d already spent the entire morning cleaning his house and getting rid of as much crap as he could. He’s not sure when Sam wants to officially move in, but he wanted to make it clear that he’s ready whenever Sam is. He’d also taken a couple elk patties out of the freezer, so their dinner is thawing in the fridge and he has a few projects to work on in the shop to keep busy.

As excited he is about Sam coming home, he has no plans to bring up the peeing thing today. Today, he just wants to focus on having Sam back, he wants to finally give his cock some relief after two weeks of being denied and most importantly, he wants to see Sam put a copy of his house key on his key chain.

When he knows Sam is less than half an hour away, Paul picks up the brand new key copy that he’d gotten done in Gibson when he’d gone in for his hockey game and brings it outside and slides it under his door mat. He’d told Sam the night before that he’ll put the key there, letting Sam try out unlocking the door as quickly as possible.

Then it’s just a waiting game until the three hours and forty minutes have finally passed. With ten minutes left, Paul gets undressed and double checks that the lube in the bedroom is filled up before he leans against the dinner table, anxiously staring at the locked front door. He knows the sound of Sam using his key will really get him going, but the reality ends up being so much better than he could have imagined.

He recognizes the sound of Sam’s truck pulling into the snowy gravel parking lot and the engine being cut. Moments later, heavy boots are jogging up the wooden steps. Then there’s silence for a minute until there’s a quiet scrapping sound—Sam putting his key into the lock and flipping the dead bolt. Moments later, the door handle turns and there’s Sam.

He’s grinning and holding up his thick bundle of keys, where he’d already attached his new house key. “Hey, Crick. Look! I added a new key to my chain. And guess what?”

Paul’s smile is so big that he’s nearly crying and he’s clutching the side of the table to keep from exploding. “What?”

“This new key’s my favourite.”

“It even passes your first truck key?” No other key has ever surpassed that one in the hierarchy of Sam’s favourites.

Sam’s grin grows even bigger. “Definitely. And nothing else will ever pass it.”

Then Sam drops his keys to the ground, kicks the door shut behind him and only pauses to flip the lock before he’s striding towards Paul and grabbing him, shoving him up against the nearest wall and kissing him hard.

Paul moans against his lips and wraps his arms around his waist, clutching Sam’s jacket and spreading his legs to press his already stiff cock against Sam’s rough pants.

Sam growls in his throat and presses Paul harder against the wall, nipping at his lower lip and kissing him hard while his hand wedges itself between them to grab Paul’s cock and roughly rub his thumb over the tip, making Paul whimper.

“Did you come while I was gone?” Sam mumbles against his lips, twisting his hand around his cock and making Paul’s breath catch.

He manages to shake his head, his body already trembling. “No,” he breathes out.

That earns him a kiss and squeeze on his cock. “Good. Did you touch yourself at all?”

Paul’s response comes out before his brain properly thinks about it. “No. Well, except to pee. And when I was getting dressed.”

Sam chuckles against his lips. “Good boy. And speaking of pissing, we’re gonna talk about that later. But not now cause I need to get that gorgeous cock of yours into my mouth.”

Dropping to his knees, Sam fists his cock a few times before sliding his lips over it, swallowing him down with a groan as Paul cries out and arousal shoots through him, Sam’s arm across his hips the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor.

As usual, it barely takes any time before Paul’s coming down Sam’s throat, his cock so thrilled at getting relief after two long weeks of obeying Sam’s order not to come.

* * *

When Sam wakes up from his nap, he can hear Paul moving around the kitchen and the smell of delicious elk burgers is drifting through the small home.

Their home.

Blinking up at the ceiling, Sam grins. He’d been so surprised when Paul had randomly asked him if he wanted to move in with him, but it’s amazing that this part of his dream is coming true. When Sam had moved back up north, he’d settled in Gibson out of habit, not out of a desperate attachment to the place. He has no special love for Wiley either, but he definitely has special love for Paul. He loves being in the north, but if Paul decided to move down south tomorrow, Sam would go with him, no questions asked.

But luckily, it seems that Paul’s as happy spending the rest of his days up here as Sam is, so Sam will get the best of everything—living in a place he loves with the man he loves. The name of the actual town he’s living in doesn’t matter. He’s spent enough time living here with Paul by now that he feels comfortable going to Gibson for shopping, hockey, restaurants or whatever else they need. Besides, he really likes Paul’s cozy little home.

Looking around from the bed, he stares into the open closet and notices that Paul’s cleared out half of it. He’d also cleaned up some junk that had sat in the corner for ages. Realizing that Paul had made room for Sam’s belongings makes his heart glow.

Sam also realizes something else. He never wants to leave. He wants to spend the rest of his life living here with Paul. There’s no way he can force himself to get back into his truck at the end of this week and leave Paul and their home for two weeks.

Well, he could force himself to do it, but he doesn’t want to. His lack of enthusiasm for leaving all this is stronger than ever, and Sam knows he’s very close to calling it quits. But that can wait for a few more days. They have lots of other new things to do first, which Sam wants to deal with first. “Hey, Crick?”

The sound of plates being pulled out of the cupboard drifts through the open bedroom door. “Yeah?”

“You wanna drive to Gibson with me tomorrow and help bring my stuff over?” His lease won’t be done for two more months, but Sam couldn’t care less. His money has been piling up in recent years because he hasn’t had anything he’d wanted to spend it on, so paying rent in two places for a few months is a sacrifice he’ll happy make if it’ll allow him to officially live with Paul every day.

“Sure! We can put the canoe in the shop. I made space for it.”

Smiling, Sam stretches and yawns. “Come in here. Your cock’s too far away from me.”

Seconds later, Paul saunters in, still completely naked and covered in the black letters spelling out Sam’s name.

Throwing the blanket off himself, Sam waits for Paul to straddle him so he can wraps his hands around his soft cock and coax him to hardness while staring at his name written all over Paul’s skin. “You’re looking damn good, Becker.”

Paul’s eyes are shining as he chuckles, his hips thrusting a bit, always a bit touch starved after the two week separation. Adrenaline surges through him and Sam becomes determined to never put Paul through that again. And that’s another big addition to his ‘Retiring-From-The-Patch’ column. But now isn’t the time to think about that. Now it’s time for dinner and then it’s time to fuck Paul.

“Is dinner ready?” He asks, stroking Paul’s cock.

Paul lets out a shaky breath, his hands behind his back as he stares down at Sam’s hands on his cock. “Y-yeah.”

“You want me to feed you?”

That makes a grin spread over Paul’s face. “Uh huh.”

Sam smiles. “Okay. But first, I’m gonna keep playing with your cock for a while. I haven’t had it in my hands for two weeks and that’s way too long.”

* * *

That night, Sam rubs his thumb over Paul’s cock as they’re curled up together in bed. “Hey, Crick?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna tell me how you want the peeing thing to go?”

Paul’s breath catches and he can’t help the way his heart starts to race. “Really?”

Sam chuckles softly and kisses his neck as he gives his cock a squeeze. “Yeah, really. I know you’ve been dreaming about this decades so you should start us off. How, when, where, gimme me all the details.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, a big smile spreads over Paul’s face. “I wanna be kneeling in front of you.”

“Uh huh. With your hands tied or not?”

“Yeah, hands tied.”

“In front of you or behind?”

“Behind,” Paul whispers, his voice shaking with desperate want.

Sam makes an interested sound. “You want me to aim right for your cock, eh?”

A shudder runs through Paul and his cock stiffens in Sam’s grasp as arousal shoots through him. “I—yeah. Yeah. That’s—yeah.”

“You like the idea of me marking your cock with my piss, hmm?”

Gasping, Paul feels like he’s going to explode as his cock hardens. “Uh huh,” he mumbles, barely able to string any sounds together. Just the idea of Sam pissing on his cock is…Jesus, he wants it so badly that he might give himself a heart attack before they even do it.

Sam tightens his grip on his cock and kisses his neck hard. He presses his groin right up against Paul’s ass and his cock’s stiff too. “I’m really liking that idea. We should try it in the bathroom first, though. We’ll see how messy things get. If it works out, we can get some plastic sheets or something for the bed.”

Just the thought of Sam pissing on him while Paul’s tied to the bed makes his whole body seize up and he can barely breathe.

Groaning, Sam lazily thrusts against him, rubbing his stiff cock against Paul’s ass. “Fuck, that’s an image, eh? I could cover so much more of you than with my cum and it would take longer.” His voice is a bit rough.

Paul lets out a strangled noise and if Sam weren’t holding his cock, Paul would be coming all over himself.

And Sam’s still talking. “I think we should do a test run first. Something small to see how we like it. We can see if reality is as good as our fantasies and go from there.”

Paul’s shaking and he’s about to beg Sam to let him come. His heart’s racing and he’s never been this turned on in his life. There’s no way he can calm down from this and go to sleep. No way. No matter whether his eyes are open or closed, he’ll be thinking about Sam marking him in warm piss and smiling down at him. But unlike his previous fantasies, Sam’s fully on-board with trying it and Paul will finally get to live the fantasy that’s been in his head for almost three decades. That means he won’t be able to calm down, no matter what Sam tells him to do.

Thankfully, they seem to be on the same page. Sam growls softly in his throat and shifts back, pulling Paul onto his back and sliding down his body to swallow his cock down, enveloping it in moist heat and sucking hard.

Paul’s thrusting into his mouth without being aware of it and barely any time passes before he’s coming; Sam eagerly sliding up and down his cock, moaning while he comes.

While Paul’s still a limp, shaking mess, Sam crawls up him and straddles his chest, working his cock in hard, fast strokes. “Fuck, I can’t wait to piss on you, Crick. Mark you in my piss and let everybody know you belong to me.”

Moaning softly, Paul closes his eyes and eagerly waits, listening to Sam’s choppy breathing and the sound of his hand flying over his cock. Finally, Sam lets out a soft sound and warm cum covers Paul’s face, the spurts landing on his cheeks, chin and forehead as Paul groans. Sam’s marked him with his name and his cum and soon, Sam will add his piss and everything will be perfect.

Growling again, Sam grabs Paul’s chin. “Look at me.”

Opening his eyes, Paul stares up at Sam, who’s breathing hard and staring down at him, his eyes wild.

Paul smiles up at him, relaxed and happy. Sam’s marked him and he’s willing to piss on him and he’s as excited about it as Paul is. In short, everything is wonderful.

Sam grins down at him and leans down to nuzzle his face, smearing his cum on Paul’s skin as he covers his face in kisses. “Tomorrow, we’ll start making your twenty year dream come true.”

Shivering, Paul can’t stop smiling as he lets his eyes drop shut, Sam’s comforting weight pressing down on him as he drags his lips over his cum-covered face.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned at the start of the story, this entire chapter shows Paul and Sam exploring Paul's watersports kink.

One of the only downsides to making Paul’s fantasy come to life is that Sam can’t pee when he’s aroused. That means timing is important, as is Paul’s role in the whole thing.

“You gotta stay calm, Crick. If you get too excited, then I’ll get excited and that’s fine, but it means we gotta take things in a different direction.”

Nodding, Paul tries to keep his breathing steady as he stands next to the toilet with Sam. He can’t stop shaking, but keeping his fists clenched helps keeps his own arousal in check a little bit. Sam’s standing next to him, his sweatpants around his knees and his cock in his hands while Paul’s naked and trying to control his shaking.

Reaching over, Sam gently grabs Paul’s chin and turns his face to look at him. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Paul whispers his heart racing.

“We’ll do it just like we discussed, okay? If you need me to stop, you let me know.”

Nodding, Paul can’t stop his eyes from dropping down to Sam’s cock, which is soft and ready in his hand.

Stepping closer to the toilet, Sam lifts his cock with one hand while he holds out his other hand. “Gimme your hand.”

Paul eagerly stretches out his hand and Sam gently holds onto his wrist. There’s silence for another moment before Sam starts to pee, the thin yellow stream hitting the water.

His eyes widening, Paul eagerly stretches out his hand as Sam moves with him, not pulling or pushing his wrist, but just holding it.

Bringing his hand towards the yellow stream, Paul holds his breath as he finally reaches it and his hand is covered in the warm liquid. Sam keeps peeing, bathing Paul’s hand in his piss. Paul can’t stop staring at his hand as Sam’s piss drips from it, his hand being marked by Paul in such a strong physical way that it makes a warm glow spread through Paul.

Abruptly, the stream stops and Sam shifts a bit, squeezing Paul’s wrist. “You doing okay?”

Paul nods frantically. “Yeah. You?”

Sam lets out a shaky chuckle. “It’s intense, but don’t let me focus on that or I’ll get hard. You ready for the next step?”

A shudder runs through Paul and he nods even more frantically. “Yeah. Please.”

Please, please, please, please, please—

His wrist is gently squeezed again. “Don’t beg, Crick. You never have to beg for anything. Just ask and I’ll give it to you.”

And that makes warmth spread through him and his smile gets bigger. “Okay.”

“Okay. Here we go.” Sam releases Paul’s wrist and resumes peeing on Paul’s hand. But this time, Sam brings his own hand under the stream, covering both of their hands in warmth.

When the stream ends again, Sam release his cock and steps behind Paul, his soft cock wedged against Paul’s ass.

Paul’s fully focused on his warm, wet hand that’s been marked by Sam, but when Sam slides his own wet hand over Paul’s stomach, his heart takes off again and he eagerly looks down at Sam’s hand as it runs down his stomach, leaving a wet streak everywhere it touches. He runs through the rough curls above Paul’s cock and finally, Sam wraps his moist, warm hand around Paul’s cock and gently strokes it.

Having Sam rubbing his piss all over Paul’s cock is so intense that his knees nearly buckle and Sam wraps his other arm around him, holding him up as arousal races through him, making his cock stiffen in Sam’s grip.

“Breathe, Crick. Breathe,” Sam whispers into his ear. “Feels good, huh? Me rubbing my piss all over your cock. There’s no doubt who it belongs to, is there?”

Paul shakes his head, a smile spreading over his face. “No. No doubt.”

Sam kisses his neck. “You’re loving this, eh?”

Managing to nod, Paul closes his eyes, slumping in Sam’s arms. “It’s exactly like I always thought it would be.”

Sam chuckles. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I loved it too. So guess what I wanna do tomorrow?”

Paul’s smile grows into a full-blown grin and he shivers in Sam’s arms. “We’re gonna make my full fantasy come to life?”

Sam tightens his wet hand on Paul’s cock, rubbing it gently. “You bet.”

* * *

Shaking like a leaf, Paul has to keep his knees spread where he’s kneeling on the bathroom floor on the thick layers of towels he’d put down so he doesn’t fall over.

Sam’s standing in front of him, smiling down at him, but he looks a little worried. “You okay?”

Paul nods frantically, his hands straining against the cuffs keeping them bound behind his back. He’s so excited that he’s going to fly apart. “Yeah. I’m really, really okay.”

Grinning down at him, Sam bends down and kisses him, running his hand through Paul’s thinning hair. “Me too.”

Paul’s gaze keeps moving between Sam’s smile and his soft cock and Sam chuckles when he sees where he’s looking. Grabbing his cock, Sam lifts it up. “Don’t get me too excited or this isn’t gonna work.”

Letting out a shaky laugh, Paul shifts on his knees, his own cock already stiff and throbbing, so eager to get covered in Sam’s piss. “I can’t help it.”

Sam chuckles and kisses his forehead. “I know. You’ve waited for this for a long time.” Nuzzling Paul’s face with his nose, Sam takes a deep breath before standing up straight. “Ready?”

Oh, is he ever! Nodding, Paul stares at Sam’s cock with wide eyes, his body vibrating. His jaw is clenched tight and his heart’s racing.

“Look down at your chest, Crick.”

Glancing down, Paul stares at the black letters covering his chest and stomach. His knees are spread wide enough that he can see the letters spelling Sam’s name on the insides of his thighs too.

“I already put my name all over you, but that’s not good enough, is it?”

Another big smile spreads over Paul’s face and he shakes his head, so excited and happy that Sam understands exactly what he’s thinking and feeling.

“No, it’s not, is it? It’s good, but it’s not good enough. Let’s fix that.”

Sam shifts his stance and stands between Paul’s spread knees, holding his cock. Reaching down he gently tilts Paul’s chin up a bit. “Keep your face outta firing range, okay? We don’t want any getting into your eyes. You can watch, but don’t tilt your face down too far.”

Paul’s grateful that Sam’s letting him watch, because there’s no way he can miss this. He wants to see and feel every second.

Sam takes a few deep breaths…then it begins.

A slow, steady stream of warm piss runs from his cock and hits Paul’s chest, bathing it in warm wetness. Paul shudders and his breath catches, feeling Sam’s warm piss covering his chest and dripping down over the black letters of Sam’s name. His heart’s pounding in his chest and his cock’s aching as he shakes, overwhelmed with how good it feels. Sam’s marking him and it feels so primal and so nice and so right.

“Doing okay?” Sam asks him softly.

Paul manages to nod, staring down at the yellow stream as it moves across his chest, sending the wetness trickling down his chest and over his stomach.

Sam slowly moves his cock, his piss running over Paul’s nipples and over the soft rolls on his stomach. The warm liquid splits into smaller paths, trickling down between his legs, individual drops sliding across Sam’s name between his thighs and Paul grins and lets out a happy whine. He’s being marked all over by Sam and just like he’d always thought, it’s so much better than cum and the individual black letters. The thin, steady stream is covering him everywhere, coating his skin.

“Now for the best part,” Sam says quietly, his voice shaking.

And the stream shifts as Sam directs it over Paul’s cock. The sudden warmth feels incredible and Paul lets out a soft cry, shivering hard as he watches Sam piss all over his cock, bathing the sensitive skin in his warmth. The piss runs down his cock, trickling between his legs and dripping off his balls.

His entire front has been completely covered by Sam. Every part of his chest, stomach and his cock have been marked by Sam. It feels similar to when Sam’s hugging him; Paul’s entire front is covered by him. Every drop that Sam’s covering him in is Sam telling him that he chose Paul, that Paul is his to protect and love for the rest of his life.

The stream ends and Sam’s breathing as hard as Paul is. Lifting Paul’s chin, Sam stares down at him. “You okay?” Sam’s voice is very tight.

Paul doesn’t think he’s ever smiled as hard as he’s smiling now. “Yeah.”

He’s shaking so hard, the warm piss slowly cooling on his skin. His throat tightens and tears well up in his eyes, emotions flooding through him. He blinks hard up at Sam, but a few tears slip down. They’re tears of happiness, pride...and relief at finally having had this long-held wish come true.

Sam kneels down and puts his hands on Paul, clutching his face and staring at him intently. “That was the most intense and hottest thing we’ve ever done,” he whispers.

Paul nods and lets out a choked laugh, so happy and relieved. “Yeah. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, tha—”

Sam abruptly cuts off Paul’s words by kissing him hard, his hands shaking as they grip his face. Paul parts his lips and eagerly kisses Sam back as Sam growls in his throat.

He can’t believe he’s kneeling on the floor, his hands bound behind his back and he’s covered in Sam’s name and his piss. He truly feels like he belongs to Sam now. Sam gave him a gift that he’d never give anybody else and he loves Paul enough and thinks he’s worthy enough to belong to Sam and that makes Paul’s heart race in his chest as he eagerly kisses Sam back, trying to pour all of these emotions into the kiss.

Sam finally pulls back and rests his forehead against Paul’s as he reaches down and strokes Paul’s wet, throbbing cock, rubbing his piss all over it and sending a flare of heat through Paul as he gasps, staring down at Sam’s hand.

“Do you have any fucking idea how good this feels?” Sam chokes out. “You’re really mine, aren’t you? Look at you—look how damn hard your cock is, how happy you are that I marked you with my piss.”

Letting out another choked laugh, Paul sniffs back more tears and smiles as he watches Sam’s hand stroking his cock in hard, fast strokes. His stomach is wet with Sam’s piss and the black letters on it are shining.

_Sam’s._

The words have been true for decades, but being marked by Sam like this makes it feel even more true, even more intense, even more right than it’s ever felt. Arousal is coiling in his stomach and heat spreads through him.

Sam kisses him hard and reaches behind Paul’s back to unclip the cuffs. “Lie down and spread your legs. I’m gonna fuck you.”

Without hesitation, Paul lies down on the towel. Most of the piss has dried already, but some small pools slide down his sides and between his legs with the change in position, making Paul shiver.

Sam leans over him and kisses him hard. “I’ll be right back. Spread your legs for me and wait.”

As soon as Sam’s stood up and walked out of the bathroom, Paul lifts his legs, spreading them wide open and bending his knees. The warm air in the room is still cooler than the piss that covered him and the cool breeze tingles between his spread thighs and on his balls and cock.

Lying here on the floor, spread open for Sam and having been marked by him makes Paul feel more submissive than he’s ever felt before and it brings on another flood of tears. The tears slowly run down his face and he clenches his hands in the towel beneath him.

Footsteps alert him that Sam’s back, then Sam’s abruptly straddling him, frowning down at him as his thighs clutch Paul’s sides. “You okay? Talk to me. Is it too much? I’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll go to bed, okay? I’ll—”

Paul frantically shakes his head. He can’t stop the flood of tears, but that’s fine. They’re good tears. He manages to curl his lips into a smile. “I’m okay.”

Sam looks doubtful as he searches Paul’s face and looks at his hands to see if he’s signalling. “You sure?”

Nodding, Paul sniffs hard and takes a shaky breath. “I’m just really happy.”

That makes the frown disappear from Sam’s face and he smiles softly, bending down to kiss the tears off Paul’s cheeks. “This is the best thing we’ve ever done, eh?”

Paul nods and closes his eyes as Sam’s lips brush over his face. “Yeah.”

As Sam shifts against him, his hard cock is rubbing against Paul’s stomach and Paul shivers as his ass clenches.

Eventually, Sam climbs off him and settles between his legs as he smiles down at him and his eyes slowly drift down Paul’s body, lingering on wet patches and the black letters. It makes Paul feel so proud and he spreads his legs wider and relaxes against the towel, letting Sam look at him as much as he wants.

Sam puts his hands on Paul’s chest and rubs over his skin, sending warm tingles through Paul. His hands slide down over his stomach and rub over the insides of his thighs. There’s still some piss there and Paul moans softly when Sam finds the trails and rubs them into his skin. Letting out a growl, Sam digs his fingers harder into Paul’s skin, staring down at his twitching hole and his aching cock. Paul’s shaking with arousal and he gets more turned on the more Sam stares at him.

“Fuck, you look so damn good. My name’s written inside your legs, my piss is running over your balls and legs and you’re so damn happy, just lying there, your legs spread wide open for me, letting me look and touch. You’re really mine, aren’t you?”

Paul smiles and nods happily, waves of heat washing through him. He’s never felt this good in his entire life. If Sam told him to stay here for the rest of his life, Paul would happily do it. Sam would feed him and give him water whenever he thinks Paul needs it and Sam would come into the bathroom to fuck him and cover him in his piss and cum whenever he wants. Sadly, that’s not reality, but Paul’s as close to it as he can get right now.

Chuckling softly, Sam grabs his cock with one hand and fists it hard, making Paul’s breath catch as his arousal shoots through the roof. Paul hears the snap of a bottle lid before three of Sam’s thick fingers are pushing at his rim.

Paul eagerly shifts his ass, trying to thrust down on the fingers and get them inside him. When Sam slides his lube-covered fingers in, filling him up, Paul lets out a loud groan, thrusting down and clenching his ass around them. Sam lets him fuck himself for a while until he takes over and starts fucking him hard with his fingers, matching the pace of his fingers with his other hand that’s still stroking his cock.

Paul can barely breathe and his entire body seizes up, arousal throbbing in him. He’s so damn close to coming and Sam keeps fisting his cock and thrusting into his ass—

—until his fingers suddenly stop moving and his hand stop moving on his cock.

Letting out a strangled whine, Paul opens his eyes and stares down at Sam, who’s grinning at him. “Not yet.”

Paul manages to let out a weak laugh, his body shaking as his ass keeps trying to fuck Sam’s fingers. While Paul’s hands are free and he could touch himself or put his legs down to fuck himself properly on Sam’s fingers, he absolutely doesn’t want to. He’s exactly where he wants to be and everything about this is wonderful.

Sadly, that’s when Sam pulls his fingers out, but Paul’s ass has barely had time to clench around nothing before the thick head of Sam’s cock is pushing at his slick rim and he’s sliding in, filling Paul up with his warm thickness. Moaning softly, Paul goes limp, relaxing against the towels as he stares up at Sam.

Sam grins down at him and grabs his thighs in tight grips. “The rest of you had a good time today so let’s make this hole of yours happy too. It’s been so desperate to get filled with my cock, hasn’t it? I could see it twitching when I came in.”

Shaking, Paul smiles and grabs handfuls of the towels he’s lying on because he knows what’s coming. Sure enough, Sam shifts closer to him and thrust in and out of him a few times as he adjusts his position. But when he’s happy, Sam fucks him hard, pounding into his ass, his hands digging into Paul’s thighs.

Sam stays upright and keeps looking down at where his cock’s thrusting into Paul’s hole and having Sam staring at him like that when he’s in such a submissive position makes the heat build even more in Paul’s gut.

“You have no fucking idea how amazing you look,” Sam gasps out. “I’m never gonna get tired of looking at you. So damn gorgeous. I can’t believe you let me mark you. I—God—you’re incredible.” Groaning loudly, Sam keep staring down at him before his eyes travel up Paul’s body again, drinking him in, his breathing choppy as he fucks Paul hard.

It feels incredible having Sam filling him up with his cock and having him holding Paul’s thighs in such an iron grip and having Sam saying such wonderful things to him makes everything even better. He’s drifting in his warm haze, his body overrun with so many different emotions, a permanent smile on his face.

“You’re my amazing, gorgeous Crick. So fucking—God, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t believe you let me piss on you and you’re trying to thank _me_. Crazy bastard. My crazy, amazing, gorgeous Crick. I’m never letting you go, you hear me? You’re mine for life.”

Paul lets out a soft sob, staring up at Sam as his heart glows. God, whenever he thinks he can’t feel any happier, Sam will say or do something to make things even better.

Eventually, Sam’s thrusts take on a new urgency and his breathing changes, letting Paul know that he’s getting close to coming. Sam closes his hand around Paul’s cock, making Paul’s back arch. “I want you to come now. Be my good boy and come for me.”

Sam keeps his thumb pressed against the slit of his cock and that, together with being more turned on than he’s ever been in his life makes Paul come within a few more thrusts of Sam’s cock in him.

“Good boy. That’s my good boy.” Sam keeps rubbing his thumb over his sensitive slit as more and more cum spurts out of him, covering Sam’s hand and Paul’s stomach in come.

It seems to last forever and when he’s finally done, he collapses in a shaky heap, but his ass is still rhythmically clenching around Sam’s cock, who’s gently thrusting in and out of him as he keeps pressing his thumb against Paul’s spent cock.

Now that he’s come, it’s Sam’s turn and Paul grins, wondering what Sam’s going to do with his cum.

As it turns out, it’s one of those rare times when Sam decides to give the choice to Paul. “Where—where do you want me to come? Tell me,” Sam gasps out.

Paul opens his mouth and he doesn’t even have to think before answering. “My face.”

Sam slows his thrusts before gently pulling out. Crawling up Paul, he straddles his chest, his shaking legs digging into Paul.

Sam’s hand is flying over his cock, shiny with lube and Paul allows himself to stare longingly at it before closing his eyes, eagerly waiting. His face is the only part of him that Sam can’t mark using any of their other methods and that’s why this is so special.

Before long, Sam lets out a soft sound and warm strips of cum land on Paul’s cheeks. As he holds his breath and waits, more cum covers his face as Sam marks him in yet another way.

“Open your eyes,” Sam whispers.

Paul opens his eyes and smiles up at Sam, who’s staring down at him, his eyes huge and filled with such wonder and that deep, deep love that makes Paul’s heart soar.

Sam grins down at him, breathing hard, cupping Paul’s face with his hands and his thumbs gently smearing his cum around. They’re both still shaking and Sam’s eyes are very bright. “You look incredible. Jesus, I can’t believe I get to have this for the rest of my life.”

Smiling, Paul stares up at Sam, wondering how the hell he got lucky enough to have all this. He’d always known that five year-old Sam’s decision to ask five year-old Paul if he wanted to play together on the playground in Gibson forty years ago had led to the best relationship he’d ever have. But it’s incredible that forty years later, he’s still constantly finding new aspects of their relationship to appreciate and be grateful for.


	19. Chapter 19

When they’re curled up in bed together, Paul’s still feeling great. This has been one of the best days of his life.

Sam’s pressed up against him, the warm blanket wrapped around them and he’s loosely holding Paul’s cock. “Hey, Crick?”

“Hmm?”

Sam kisses his neck. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, I wanna make it clear that I absolutely loved pissing on you.”

Grinning, Paul reaches down and rubs Sam’s hand on his cock. He’d already known that Sam loved it. Sam had let him know in a thousand different ways that he’d enjoyed it, but he appreciates that Sam’s making it clear. “I know. Sometimes I have good ideas, eh?”

Sam sighs, but it’s a sad sigh, not a happy one.

Frowning, Paul gently pulls Sam off his cock and twists around in his arms.

Sam’s lying on the pillow, frowning and chewing on his lower lip.

Reaching over, Paul gently pulls Sam’s lip away from his teeth. “What’s wrong? If you don’t wanna do it again, that’s fine. I’ll live with these memories the rest of my life and that’ll be enough for me. Even if you did like it but you don’t wanna do it again, that’s okay.”

Sam shakes his head, his eyes sad. “It’s not that. I really liked it and I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Then what’s wrong? Talk to me, Deacon.”

Sighing softly, Sam stares at him, looking devastated. “I ruined everything over something that ended up being great.”

Paul realizes this isn’t about today, but it’s Sam’s old guilt coming back to haunt him. Today might have been fantastic for a number of reasons, but Paul completely forgot that actually doing what Sam had dumped him for would taint the experience.

Sam grabs his lip with his teeth again, chewing on it while Paul’s not paying attention. When Paul notices, he pulls Sam’s lip loose again and keeps his thumb pressed against his lips. “Stop.”

“Sorry. Bad habit.”

Paul smiles gently and keeps his thumb on Sam’s lips. “You have a few of those, but thankfully, I can help you fix them.”

Sam draws in a shaky breath. “I know you don’t want me feeling guilty over the whole thing anymore, but the guilt keeps sitting there. I’m fine on most days, then we have great days like today and it reminds me that we could have had great days like this over the last twenty years if I wasn’t such a stupid, immature jerk. And the kicker is that I actually really liked doing the thing that I left you over. I could have—”

Paul leans over and kisses him, cutting off Sam’s words. “Stop,” he whispers.

Sam’s fallen silent, but he still looks upset.

Reaching up, Paul cups Sam’s face with his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs as Sam nuzzles his hands. “You’re being way too hard on yourself. Let’s face it—asking somebody to piss on them isn’t something most people wanna do or feel comfortable doing. It’s normal that you reacted badly. Yes, you went overboard, but I don’t blame you for it. We were young and we had no idea how to make a relationship like ours work. Everybody makes mistakes, but we’ve grown from them.”

Letting out a snort, Sam clenches his jaw. “Yeah, it only took me twenty damn years.”

Paul kisses him again. “Stop it. We’re together now and we’re doing things a lot better than we did the first time around, aren’t we? I still think I deserve some of the blame for what happened, but if you insist on torturing yourself about it, then you also gotta give yourself credit for how you’ve handled things since we got back together.”

Sam gives him a doubtful look, clearly not willing to cut himself any slack, but Paul keeps talking.

“I’m being serious. I think it’s okay for people to make mistakes. It’s human. But what really matters is how people act after making the mistake.”

“I waited twenty fucking years to apologize!”

Paul gives him a look. “No, you didn’t. You convinced yourself that an apology wasn’t necessary and by the time you decided that it would be a good idea, you thought too much time had passed and that you’d be annoying me off by trying to bring up our past. Besides, I didn’t expect you to roam around the entire north looking for me. That’s ridiculous. But once you got the opportunity to apologize, you took it. And since we agreed to give things another try, you’ve bent over backwards to make sure nothing like that happens again. You learned from your mistake and you’ve been incredible. That’s what matters and that’s what I want you to think about. Don’t let your guilt eat you up. It doesn’t deserve that. Instead, let yourself be proud of how we’re doing things now.”

Sam stares at him for a while and Paul can practically feel the wheels turning in his head. “Things really are different this time around,” he mumbles.

“Yeah. Mostly because of you. A little because of me, but mostly because of you. And you deserve huge credit for that.”

Sam sighs softly. “I like looking at it like that, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get past those twenty years we lost.”

Paul mirrors his sigh and kisses Sam, rubbing their noses together. “I know. But as long as you focus on our present and the future more than the past, we’ll be okay. I think that old guilt and regret will fade over time and maybe you won’t even notice because we’ll be so busy building new memories that are a thousand times better than anything we had when we were younger.”

That brings a small smile to Sam’s face. “I like making new memories with you.”

Grinning, Paul kisses him hard. “Me too. Let’s focus our energy on that, okay?”

Sam’s smile grows a little stronger. “Okay.”

* * *

As the week goes on, Sam’s certainty that he doesn’t want to go back into the field gets stronger and stronger. Not only had he and Paul reached two enormous milestones this week—having Sam officially moving in with him and trying out a new sexual adventure that was twenty years delayed—but Sam is falling more in love with Paul every single day.

He doesn’t want to stay because he’s worried about Paul. He knows Paul would rather have Sam be home too, but Paul has proven that he’s fine with Sam’s shifts. No, this is something Sam wants for himself.

Not only is the physical work on the rig, the weather and the long hours weighing on him physically, but he wants to spend every moment with Paul in their cozy little home and working in the shop and the store in tiny little Wiley.

He’s spent a lot of time going back and forth over it in his head, but every time he thinks about a potential drawback to staying home, it’s easily dismissed as being inaccurate or irrelevant. For example: he’ll get bored being in Wiley. Nonsense. He’s never gotten bored being around Paul and there’s enough stuff to do around here that he can stay busy if he wants to. If it’s really slow, they can go to Gibson or the lake or do a thousand other things, which are all much better than being out in the field.

He’ll get tired of being with Paul. Not a chance. The more time they spend together, the closer they get and the more time Sam wants to spend with him. Paul’s on the same page, so that isn’t a concern.

He’ll miss his crew. Irrelevant. He can text and call them during the week and he can meet up with them for drinks or dinner when they’re on their week off. The turnover on rig crews has always been very high anyway and they’re all used to people coming and going.

He’ll miss drilling. That one’s laughable. He’ll never miss the back-breaking work, the long hours in the bitter cold, the frozen filth that covers everything and everyone, and the constant stress of the big city bosses making stupid demands from their warm offices down south.

With his mind made up, he decides to tell Paul when they’re eating lunch at home. Paul’s wearing his reading glasses and reading the paper that’s spread out next to his plate, eating his sandwich with one hand while he turns pages with the other. They’re on a short break from working on a few vehicles in the shop and Sam had come up to make them lunch so they could eat together before heading back down.

Sam’s already finished eating and he can’t stop staring at Paul. There’s a little bit of mustard on the corner of Paul’s lips and his glasses have slid down his nose as he’s reading and Sam still finds himself smiling as his heart flutters, so ridiculously in love with this amazing man. “Crick?”

“Hmm?” Paul doesn’t look up from his paper as he chews.

“You got mustard on your lips.”

“Oh.” Paul frowns and grabs his napkin to wipe his face. “Did I get it?”

Sam can’t stop smiling. He’s so tempted to walk around the table and wraps his arms around him. Really, he’d be happy spending twenty-four hours a day being wrapped around Paul and showing the world what a wonderful man he gets to be with. Sadly, that’s not practical, but he still likes to imagine it. “Yeah, you got it. Hey?”

“Yeah?” Paul drops his napkin as he swallows his mouthful.

“I’m not going back into the field.”

Paul freezes and stares at him. “You—what?”

“I don’t wanna go back out.”

A smile curls Paul’s lips and he lets out a soft sigh as he slumps in his chair and takes off his glasses, tossing them on the table. “You’re serious.”

It’s not a question, but Sam wants to make sure Paul knows he’s not kidding. “Yep. I’m done.”

Paul’s smile has grown into a full grin, but then he frowns. “Sam, it’s not that simple. You can’t just quit two days before you’re supposed to go back out.”

It’s on the tip of Sam’s tongue to say that he doesn’t give a damn if the big bosses get upset with him—but then he realizes Paul’s right. The big bosses will be annoyed but they won’t suffer. The people who will suffer are his crew and the other two crews who are part of his season rotation. He’s had crew members quit out of the blue and it always leads to other people having to pick up the missing person’s slack, and that’s not fair. It’s especially not fair because he’s a supervisor and he can’t be replaced at the drop of a hat. Sam makes a face and lets out a groan. “Damn. You’re right.”

Paul’s grin doesn’t fade. “Don’t be such a mope. How many shifts have we made it through, huh? We can do one more. And you can leave things on a good note, say goodbye to your guys and make things official.”

The thought of having to go back out in a few days isn’t appealing, but Sam likes how Paul’s looking at it. He’d have felt guilty if he’d started his retirement from the patch by leaving his crew high and dry and he’d have gotten dirty looks in every bar within a five hundred kilometre radius for the next decade. No, doing this properly will be better in the long run.

Getting up, Sam grabs his cellphone and drops on the couch. “Come sit with me while I make it official.”

Paul walks over and to Sam’s surprise, he takes off his clothes before climbing into Sam’s lap and making himself comfortable.

Chuckling at the surprised look on Sam’s face, Paul kisses his cheek. “Just so you’ll have a good reminder of why quitting will be worth it. Once your boss starts throwing around raises, vacations in Mexico and a new truck, I wanna remind you what benefits I can offer you.”

Sam laughs and drops his phone as he grabs Paul’s chin with one hand and curls his other hand around Paul’s cock, rubbing it gently. Giving Paul a hard look, Sam strokes his cock slowly, feeling Paul shiver as he moans softly and his cock begins to harden. “No amount of money is worth more than being here with you. I don’t care what the guy offers me, none of it can ever come close to what you give me.”

Once Paul’s cock is nice and hard, Sam presses Paul’s face against his neck and dials the big boss’ number while he keeps hold of Paul’s cock with his other hand. Surprisingly, he’s not worried about this phone call. There’s nothing the guy can say or do that’ll make him change his mind. Absolutely nothing.

Paul’s sitting on his lap, trembling and smiling as his breath warms Sam’s neck, letting Sam hold his cock and his skin covered in Sam’s name and there’s nothing and nobody that will get Sam to leave him again. He’ll do his final two weeks and then he’ll happily spend the rest of his life in Wiley or wherever Paul wants to be.

* * *

While he’s doing his final two weeks, Sam’s grateful that Paul had made him realize how important it is to do things properly. His crew is sad that they’ll lose him, but the big boss had asked Sam to pick his replacement out of one of his guys and everybody will end up getting bumped up to a new position, including the pay raise that comes with it. He spends his final two weeks making sure his guys are training each other and will feel comfortable taking on their new roles. The guy Sam had picked to be the crew’s new supervisor is young and eager and he drives into town during their first week to write the drilling supervisor exam and thankfully, he passes with flying colours.

It’s really nice to be leaving on a good note and Sam actually enjoys his final shift more than he thought he would. The kitchen crew make him a retirement cake and the rest of the boys make him a card. It’s just as dirty as everything and everybody else on the rig and Sam can barely read the scribbles on it, but it means the world to him.

He talks to Paul every single day and they eagerly count down the days together until finally, it’s time for Sam to do his last change-over and get out of his coveralls for the last time. Taking off his hard hat is weird, but also thrilling.

It’s bittersweet to clear out his room and toss his stuff into the truck and he actually gets a little choked up as he’s driving down the road with the drilling rig growing smaller and smaller in his rear-view mirror. As he heads down the oil field road, calling out his kilometres on the radio as he goes, a lot of other people in the area chime in on the radio to wish him well and make him promise to meet up for a beer when the season’s done.

When Sam reaches the highway, he calls Paul. “I’m about to turn onto the highway. Goodbye oil patch.”

“I’ll make sure you’ll never regret it, I promise,” Paul tells him and Sam can hear the smile in his voice.

Sam chuckles. “There’s no danger of that happening.”

His hands are shaking and he actually feels a bit sad as he finally turns onto the pavement and switches off his radio for the last time.

But as he’s driving down the highway towards Wiley, the sadness fades and his earlier excitement returns. He’s leaving the oil patch behind, but he’s heading towards a future that’ll be worth more than the patch could ever give him.

He ends up pressing the gas pedal a little harder than he should on the way down, but he’s technically no longer an employee and he couldn’t care less if the big boss down south gets one of those auto-generated emails from the GPS speed tracking system installed in his truck. In fact, Sam’s looking forward to asking Paul to remove the damn thing and giving it back to the drilling company.

He can’t stop smiling at the thought of getting to spend the rest of his life with Paul. He won’t have to anxiously watch the short week off slip by and he won’t be eagerly keeping an eye on the weather to see when break up starts, signalling that the off season is around the corner. Sam will now get to enjoy the full year with Paul, regardless of what’s happening in the oil patch.

He doesn’t have any long term plans right now and Paul hasn’t pushed him about it. Maybe he’ll be happy just helping out around the shop and the store. He’s got enough money saved up to last him and Paul for a while. Maybe he’ll get a job in Gibson or find something else in Wiley. But he’s not worried about any of that now. All Sam wants to do is be around Paul every single day and sleep in their bed and eat dinner in their house.

Finally, Sam passes the tiny ‘Wiley’ sign on the highway, and the small smile that’s been glued to his face for the whole four hour drive turns into a big grin and excitement wells up inside him. No matter what the future brings, Sam knows what he needs to be happy and he’ll do everything he can to keep those things.

* * *

Standing in the snow-covered gravel parking lot next to the gas pumps, Paul peers down the highway as he eagerly watches for Sam’s truck.

Normally, he’d be waiting for Sam inside—and wearing way fewer clothes than he’s wearing now—but he’d wanted to see Sam as soon as he arrived and Sam had happily agreed. Besides, that old routine they had can now be retired.

Paul’s spent the entire two weeks of Sam’s shift dreaming up what their lives will be like now that he no longer has to share Sam with the oil patch. They’ll make new routines, they’ll explore new things and most importantly, they’ll love every minute of it.

As Paul waits, he glances at the gas pumps next to him and he can’t help but smile at how things have changed since Sam had stopped by in the middle of the night to fuel up on his way back to Gibson. If Sam hadn’t given his extra fuel to his roughneck that day, he wouldn’t have had to stop in Wiley that night and they might have never…

…and that’s too sad to even think about, so Paul pushes those thoughts out of his head.

Instead of dwelling on sad what-ifs that are pointless, Paul turns and looks down the highway. He’d done the math and he knows Sam should be arriving any second.

Sure enough, Paul eventually spies Sam’s truck coming down the highway. He’s stuck behind a big rig and Paul laughs as he watches Sam wait until the opposing lane is clear before he shoots past the big rig before jumping back into his own lane. In no time, Sam’s pulling into the parking lot and jumping out of his truck while it’s still running.

Paul hurries around the side of the truck and as soon as Sam’s within grabbing distance, he pulls him into his arms, hugging him tightly. Sam clings to him, wrapping his arms around his back and pressing his nose into Paul’s neck. One of Sam’s legs shifts and presses against Paul’s cock, which immediately tingles with desperate want after having been denied for two weeks. Paul has no idea if Sam’s even aware he’s doing it, but Paul lets out a shaky breath and rubs his cock a little against Sam’s leg.

It feels so good to have Sam right here in his arms again, but it’s even better because Sam won’t be leaving again. There’s no doubt in Paul’s mind that no matter what happens, Sam won’t leave him again. The oil patch won’t call him back and Paul doesn’t have to fear any hidden landmines buried in their future that’ll make Sam leave him. They know how to do this and they’re both extremely motivated to make things work.

Pressing his face against Sam’s, Paul twists his hands into the back of Sam’s jacket, breathing in Sam’s scent and loving how solid he feels in his arms. “You broke a couple speed limits getting down here, eh?”

Sam chuckles and clings to him harder. “Just a couple. But I figured if anybody stops me, I’ll explain why I had to get to Wiley as fast as possible and anybody with a heart would understand.”

Smiling, Paul loves how tightly Sam’s hugging him. No matter what the future holds, Paul knows they’re going to be okay. They’ll face things together and they’ll come out the other side in one piece and even more determined to keep their relationship strong. Excitement rushes through him and his smile grows into a grin. “Hey, Deacon?”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home.”

Sam chuckles softly. “You know what’s better than coming home?”

Paul grins and rubs Sam’s back. “Knowing you never have to leave again?”

“Yep.”

Giving Sam one last big squeeze, Paul releases him and steps over to Sam’s truck. Reaching inside, he turns off the ignition and pulls out the large bundle of keys before shutting the door. “Come on, let’s go home and get started on this retirement of yours. We celebrated your first job in the patch with lots of sex, so I think it’s only appropriate to do the same for your retirement.”

Sam laughs, his eyes shining as he follows Paul, their boots crunching over the snowy gravel as they head home.


End file.
